bow ୨୧

created this to share mj fanfics! 𖤐 I'm a new fan, please be patient with me.

[bowsnotes]

About me...

You may call me Bow!

I've started posting my stories of Michael recently on my AO3 and created a new dedicated Wattpad account (in my native language) for him. Decided I should try doing the same here!

I'm actually a very new fan of Michael's. Please be patient with me as I still don't know all his songs nor all aspects of his life.

Writing masterlist. || Boundaries.

dividers.

[captaingrnde]

jealous thriller!mj headcanons°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

summary: michael swears he doesn’t get jealous..right?

content: fluff, hurt/comfort(insecure michael)

♡ jealous!michael who swears up and down he doesn’t get jealous (I mean he's michael jackson!) 

♡ jealous!michael who gets so easily annoyed every time one of his brothers tries to compliment you. 

“that dress looks so good on you today y/n”

“thank you marlon!”

Michael immediately rolls his eyes from where he's sitting on the couch.

“c’mon baby let’s go upstairs” practically pushing you away from his brother’s glaring eyes.

♡ jealous!michael who is genuinely so clingy. He needs to have you in his sight at all times, not because he doesn’t trust you, but because your presence brings him so much comfort. there’s not a day that goes by where you’re not at his house and if you happen to have plans and forget to tell him, he’s instantly calling asking where you are.

“hello?”

“baby.”

“Yes michael?” 

“I get back from the studio and you’re not here… did I.. did i do something?” you can practically hear the way his eyebrows scrunch in such worry.

“mike i thought i told you i have plans tonight.”

“Oh..” 

“well when you’re done can you come over? I haven’t seen you all day..” 

“I miss your voice.” he mumbles the last part, so quiet that you almost miss it

and how could say no to that?

♡ jealous!michael who becomes extra affectionate whenever another man tries giving you attention. It’s not super over the top though, just enough to where whatever guy is talking to you, knows that you’re his.

A hand on your arm or shoulder whenever you’re talking. A simple reminder of please don’t forget me.

Casually “fixing” your hair just to touch you.

Getting noticeably more tense until the conversation’s over.

Oh how he gets so embarrassed when he realizes that you notice, trying to act like he doesn’t know what you're talking about.

“What?” acting completely innocent. “I just wanted you next to me.”

♡ jealous!michael who gets insecure when he sees you laughing a little too easily with someone else. There’s a small part of him who believes that you’ll realize he isn’t as charming as other guys (which isn’t true) or that he’s just not as interesting as you would like (also not true).

♡ jealous!michael who goes quiet after this, like he’s trying not to take up space. When you come back to him he’s more careful with his words, in a way that he’s trying to imitate whoever you were just talking to, hoping to shape himself into the person who he thinks you want him to be.

You, who obviously picks up on this, is so quick to reassure him, emphasizing that no one will ever take you away from him.

“Michael you don’t have to compete with anyone y’know." "you already have me and always will.”

“I just don’t want you to get bored of me-”

“Michael i could never get bored of you.” shutting that idea down so quick it makes him pause for a second before responding.

“Okay,” he says softly. “I believe you.”

Any doubt that sparked in his mind has disappeared just as quick, i mean how could he not believe you when you look at him with such certainty.?

໒꒱: i couldn't wait till morning to post lol but I take requests btw so please ask!! ♡

[herweirdass]

my love for you | michael jackson

you and michael secretly tied the knot in the caribbean. somehow the press gets ahold of your marriage license and the validity of your marriage comes into question.

the press always found a way to ruin beautiful things.

the ceremony in the caribbean had been perfect. just the two of you on a secluded strip of white sand, the ocean breeze catching your dress, and a local marriage commissioner who didn’t care about pop stardom. it was supposed to be yours. a quiet, sacred secret wrapped in warm turquoise waters.

then, the leak happened. a grainy photo of a marriage license on the front page of every tabloid, followed by a wave of vicious speculation. the media didn't just report it; they dissected it, questioning the validity of your love, calling you an opportunist, and painting michael as naive.

which brought you here. under the blinding, hot studio lights of a sit-down interview with oprah winfrey, a strategic move orchestrated by michael’s publicist to "control the narrative."

"now, michael, the world was completely shocked," oprah began, her voice dripping with that familiar, intense gravity as she looked between the two of you on the yellow sofa. "no announcement, no big wedding. just a sudden trip to the caribbean. people are asking... why the secrecy? what is there to hide?"

michael offered a tight, polite smile, adjusting the cuff of his black jacket. "we just wanted something for us, oprah. my life is so public. i wanted the most important day of my life to be private. between me, my beautiful wife, and god."

oprah shifted her gaze to you, her eyes narrowing with professional curiosity. "but you see, the public is skeptical. they look at a regular girl marrying the biggest superstar on earth, and the word 'financial gain' inevitably comes up. how do you respond to the critics who say you're just in this for the money and the lifestyle?"

the question felt like a slap, but you kept your posture straight, swallowing the lump of anger in your throat. before you could speak, oprah turned back to michael, pivoting without a breath.

"and michael, there have been rumors for years regarding your personal life. your innocence. some tabloids are even questioning the consummation of this marriage, wondering about your virginity prior to this wedding. is this a real marriage in every sense of the word?"

you felt the air shift next to you. michael’s frame went rigid. his jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle twitch, and his chest rose and fell in short, shallow breaths. he stared at oprah, his usual gentle demeanor completely vanishing, replaced by a cold, visible irritation. he was a proud man, and having his intimacy and his wife’s integrity questioned on global television was pushing him to his limit.

sensing the storm brewing, you reached across the small space between you and slid your hand into his.

your fingers laced through his large, warm hand, pressing your palm firmly against his. the moment your skin met his, you felt a tremor run through him. you gave his hand a reassuring, grounding squeeze.

“you know what i would tell the tabloids and the fans, oprah? i would tell them that parasocial relationships are unhealthy and obsessive. whether michael, my husband, and i consummated our marriage isn’t your business or anyone else’s. have i asked what you and your husband do in the bedroom?”

you didn’t give her a chance to respond before continuing:

“no oprah, i don’t ask. because i don’t know you and you don’t know me. nor do you know michael. you know michael jackson, “the flashy, king of pop”. but you don’t know michael. the real michael. none of you do. so, you can pretend to care about his wellbeing and his mental health all you want, but if you really knew what was best for him, you would stop assisting the public in spreading these lies and rumors.”

"well, we'll be right back after a quick commercial break," oprah said, catching the tension and looking directly into the camera.

the red light on the main camera blinked off. floor managers instantly began moving around the set, adjusting lights and checking audio cords, creating a wall of ambient noise around the couch.

michael immediately dropped his head, his curls falling over his face as he let out a sharp, angry breath. "i shouldn't have agreed to this," he whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and hurt. "she has no right. to ask you those things... to talk about us like we're a circus act..."

you shifted closer to him on the sofa, ignoring the crew buzzing around you. you used your free hand to gently cup his face, turning his head so his dark, liquid eyes had to meet yours.

"hey," you said softly, your voice a sweet, calm anchor in the middle of the chaotic studio. "look at me, lovey."

he looked at you, his eyes wide and vulnerable, filled with the frustration of a man who felt constantly misunderstood by the world.

"i can handle anything they throw at us," you told him, offering a small, fearless smile. "let her ask her wild questions. it doesn't change what we have. it doesn't change what happened on that beach and it damn sure doesn’t change how i feel about you.”

michael swallowed hard, his face softening just a fraction under your touch. "she's trying to make it look like you don't love me. like you're using me."

"let them think whatever they want," you whispered, leaning in a little closer so only he could hear. "i am sitting on this couch, in front of millions of people, for one reason only. because i love you. i'm doing this for you, okay? we're a team. they can't get to us unless we let them."

michael closed his eyes for a brief second, breathing in your scent, letting your words settle the roaring in his chest. when he opened them, the tense, angry edge was gone, replaced by a quiet, fierce devotion. he brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently.

"i love you too," he murmured, his voice steady now.

as the stage manager called out 'thirty seconds back from break', michael straightened his shoulders, his hand still tightly holding yours, ready to face the cameras again. this time, completely untouchable.

[luvingkiku]

ִֶָ۶ৎ˖ִ ˚ not enough time | michael jackson ۶ৎ˖ִ ˚

pairing: !mature m.jackson x !fem reader

synopsis: after an argument about michael being too busy, he spends the next day trying to make it up to you and finally listens to what you've been trying to tell him all along.

cw: angst to fluff

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ a/n: the picture is not supposed to be you, it’s just overall aesthetic. nowhere in this fic do I describe the reader’s physical appearance.

you had come over after dinner. he remembered you walking through the front door, kicking off your shoes beside the couch, and kissing your forehead while trying to finish a phone call. what he didn’t remember was how the argument had started, only how it ended.

you were sitting across from him on the couch, looking frustrated in a way he hadn’t seen before. not angry. not dramatic. just tired. the kind of tired that came from carrying the same disappointment for too long.

“i know you’re busy, michael.”

you said it quietly. you weren’t yelling or trying to hurt him. you sounded like someone who’d already spent too much energy trying to be understood. at the time, he’d been too caught up defending himself to really hear it. he’d thought if he could just explain himself clearly enough, you’d understand.

he’d explained his schedule, the rehearsals, the meetings, the endless list of things demanding his attention, but the more he talked, the quieter you became. when he finally stopped speaking, the room felt strangely still. you looked down at your hands for a moment. then back at him.

“i’m not asking you to stop being michael jackson.”

the sentence landed somewhere deep in his chest.

“i just miss you sometimes.”

for the first time all evening, he didn’t have a response ready. you gave a small, tired smile.

“there you are.”

“what?” michael frowned.

“that look.” you gestured toward him. “the one where you’re already trying to figure out how to answer instead of hearing me out and actually trying to understand what im saying.” the silence that followed stretched longer than either of you liked.

he wanted to say something that would fix it, but instead he found himself slipping back into explanations and reasonings. as the words left his mouth, part of him knew that he was missing the point, and by the time you stood up to leave, you didn’t look angry anymore. you just looked exhausted, so you grabbed your purse from the arm of the couch.

“baby.” michael stood immediately.

you shook your head. he could see you trying to keep yourself together, and that was what stayed with him afterward.

not tears. just the way you kept blinking and focusing on anything except him.

“i think i’m gonna head home.” your voice sounded smaller than usual.

when you finally glanced up, your eyes were shining, and michael felt his stomach drop. whatever point he’d been trying to make vanished instantly.

“hey.”

he took a step forward, but you looked away before he could get any closer.

“we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

then you were gone.

michael wandered into the kitchen and found the glass of water you’d been drinking. it was still sitting exactly where you’d left it.

later he found one of your hair ties wedged between the couch cushions. then one of your magazines on the coffee table. normally he wouldn’t have noticed any of it, but that night, it felt like the entire house was full of you.

sleep didn’t come easily for michael. every time he closed his eyes, he found himself replaying pieces of the conversation.

the things he’d interrupted. the things he’d brushed past because he thought he already understood, and sometime around three in the morning, he ended up sitting at the kitchen counter drinking and orange juice, simply thinking.

the next day, when you opened your apartment door, michael was standing outside holding two coffees. he looked tired, like someone who hadn’t gotten much sleep and was silently hoping you wouldn’t shut the door in his face.

for a second neither of you spoke, then he held one of the coffees out.

“hi baby.” he mumbled softly.

“hi.”

his smile appeared briefly, a small and uncertain smile.

“will you come somewhere with me?”

“where?” you eyed him suspiciously.

“it’s a surprise.”

an hour later, you were walking beside him down rodeo drive. the moment you realized where he had brought you, you stopped moving. michael kept walking before noticing you weren’t beside him anymore, and when he turned around, you were staring.

every store employee seemed to know exactly who michael was. every time you picked something up, he somehow convinced somebody to wrap it up before you’d even made a decision. you’d barely looked at a pair of heels before they appeared at the register. a jacket then followed, then a purse, then a dress.

“michael.”

he glanced up.

“what?”

“stop buying things.”

“okay.”

five minutes later he was buying sunglasses. he pretended not to notice you staring at him. if thought that if he kept you smiling, maybe he could make up for at least a little of yesterday, and by lunchtime, you had accumulated enough shopping bags to be genuinely embarrassed.

michael, meanwhile, seemed completely unbothered. you ended up sitting outside a café while the driver loaded everything into the car.

the afternoon sun was warm, people wandered up and down the street, and for the first time all day, neither of you were moving. michael sat across from you, absentmindedly peeling the label from his water bottle. he’d always done that when something was on his mind. you watched the label slowly unravel between his fingers.

“you don’t have to do all this, you know.”

“i know.” he nodded.

his answer surprised you, since you’d expected an argument. instead, he just looked down at the table. the bottle label had become a tiny pile of paper strips.

“then what’s all this for?”

“because i hated how you looked when you left.”

he seemed oddly nervous for someone who could perform in front of stadiums full of people. his eyes stayed fixed on the table.

“i kept replaying everything.” another piece of paper peeled away beneath his fingers.

“mostly the parts where you were talking.” the admission came without excuses attached to it.

for a moment neither of you said anything. michael let out a breath and finally looked up.

“i know i’m busy.”

a small smile touched his face. “that’s probably the understatement of the century.” you laughed despite yourself.

the reaction was immediate, and his shoulders relaxed. suddenly it occurred to you that he’d been watching for that all day.

every smile, every laugh, every sign that things were getting better. the shopping bags stacked beside the table suddenly felt a lot less important than the man sitting across from you.

you reached over and took his hand. his fingers closed around yours immediately. you glanced toward the mountain of shopping bags visible through the café window. for the first time since the night before, neither of you felt like you were standing on opposite sides of something.

[bowsnotes]

I hate when people don't tag their stories properly it pisses me off.

[y56n11]

req: Can you write a fic where Michael feels cuteness aggression/overload because of reader, please?

Michael Jackson x Reader

warnings: kissing

I thought of Thriller era, but you can imagine any era u want. Gender isn’t mentioned.

masterlist

Michael sat cross legged in the centre of a massive, plush Persian rug, surrounded by scattered vinyl records that he was organising alphabetically, and a half eaten bowl of buttery popcorn. He was supposed to be focused, but for the last twenty minutes, his focus had been completely utterly derailed by you.

You were currently on the opposite end of the rug, completely oblivious to his gaze. You had bought over a thick, vintage storybook, and you were propped up on your stomach, your chin resting in the palm of your hand, feet idly kicking back and forth in the air, you were even wearing your favourite fluffy socks.

Michael’s eyes tracked every single thing you did. The way your nose gave a tiny, involuntary twitch whenever you turned a page. The way you unconsciously chewed on your bottom lip.

You rubbed your eyes, yawning tiredly.

Michael felt a weird bizarre, fierce urge to just squeeze you. To wrap you up in his arms so tightly that you’d gasp. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he fought the overwhelming urge to just grab you.

You turned another page, letting out a tiny, soft sigh as you adjusted your position.

“That’s it,” he murmured. You blinked, pulled out of the book by the sudden sound of his voice. “Huh? Did you say something Mike-”

You sat upright, noticing the way he was looking at you. And before you could even process it he was in front of you, cupping your face gently. His thumb stroking your cheekbone.

Before you could even say a word, Michael leaned in. Prepping small, sweet kisses all over your face.

mwah mwah mwah

He started at your forehead, you squeaked in surprise. What caused this sudden reaction from him? His hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you in place. He moved down, planting three quick kisses on your right cheek, then immediately moving to the left.

“Michael!” You shrieked, a breathless laugh escaping your lips. Your hands coming up to his chest.

“Can’t stop.” Michael mumbled against your skin.

You giggled, which only fueled Michael’s actions more.

Mwah. Another firm kiss planted on the tip of your nose. He moved to your jawline, lips pressing happily against the warm skin. The sheer affection of it was dizzying. You were squirming and laughing.

Michael pulled back eventually, he was panted slightly. His large eyes tracing across your flushed features.

He reached up, both hands cupping each side of your face. Squeezing lightly.

“Look at you,” he groaned, his voice immediately making your knees weak. “I just want to bite you.”

He leaned back in again, planting a quick small kiss against your lips. And then another just to be sure. And maybe a third, third times the charm, right?

He leaned back catching the view of your smile, which only made him lean back in and plant two more kisses against your cheekbone. “Looking so sweet.” He mumbled.

“I was literally just reading a book.” You laughed shyly.

“Mmhmm. And you were kicking your feet.”

Michael chided gently, a soft, devastatingly beautiful smile spreading across his lips. He pressed one last kiss to the crown of your head.

Sorry this is so short

Taglist: @lotuspetalss @lemmeseethosetoes @darkgreengrl @swag313gurl @axrithtiy @xxinternationalplayboixx

[bowsnotes]

Secrets.

synopsis: you and Michael have a secret relationship; in order to make you feel loved, Michael sneakily finds ways to show his affections towards you, even if in public.

cw: none.

a/n: this is the longest I've written for Michael I think? There's one thing or another that I'm 100% not satisfied with, but I decided to stop tweaking it and just post it already! This was written with the format of those 5 + 1 fanfictions, so if you're familiar with these you may recognize a pattern.

words: 4.2k+

masterlist || dividers.

Everybody had secrets, big or small. It was completely normal, and frankly you didn't think it was something to be frowned upon. But still, some secrets were harder to keep than others.

And keeping your relationship with Michael a secret was one of the hardest things you could do.

It had been a few months since you started dating, and you both came to the conclusion that, for now, it was better to keep it all under wraps.

Michael had the whole world with its eyes on him, and the last thing he wanted was to bring unnecessary attention and scrutiny to you.

So, you kept it low-key.

Bill would drive him to your home or vice versa. You would share brief conversations in passing, always keeping your distance from one another. Phone calls were always your best friend... And of course, the disguises Michael so adored were constantly being used.

It was funny in a way, to see the lengths the man would go to keep your peace.

"And then," Michael continued tiredlessly, his hands stroking your shoulder as you rested onto him. "He completely messed up my order. I asked for something so simple but he still messed it up."

"Ain't that terrifying?" You joked as you kept working on filing your nails. Michael clicked his tongue, taking the nail file away from your hands so you'd look at him. "Michael!"

"Baby, I've missed you throughout the whole day." He sulked as you playfully rolled your eyes. "And you're here ignoring me? Did you not miss me at all?"

"Of course I did, you dummy." You gave him a small peck, but as Michael tried to lean in for another kiss, you put your hand on his mouth. "My nail file, if you please?"

Michael kissed your palm and you laughed as you retracted your hand. He gave you back your file but you didn't mind it anymore; you gave him a kiss as compensation.

"See?" You joked against his mouth, Michael chuckled at your antics. "That wasn't that hard, was it?"

"Michael?" Bill's voice came from outside your apartment. It was late at night, and your 30 minutes together were already over. "We ought to head out now."

"Coming!" With a sigh, Michael looked at you one last time, kissing your cheek with so much care, one would think you were made of glass. "I promise to call you when I get back, 'kay?"

"Okay." You nodded, forcing a smile. It was always hard when Michael had to go back home. "I love you, Mike."

He grinned at you.

"Love you more."

And he left. Suddenly, your whole apartment felt cold.

It was a reoccurring thing, but it was never easy. Almost everyday, Michael would come to you and he'd be fully yours for 30 minutes – but no longer than that.

No, after that he was Michael Jackson, the global superstar.

You tried not to dwell on it though. One day or another a decision about your relationship would need to be made but... Not right now. Now, you wanted to share the moments you had with him.

"What is it you want to show me so badly?" You asked as he led you to the recording room, opening the door for you as you finally took off your mask and hat, realizing you were both alone.

"It's a surprise." Michael's eyes sparkled as he handled the equipment, making sure everything was set up for you. "Come here."

You walked up to your boyfriend, sitting on a chair right beside him. Michael took a deep breath.

"Michael, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, uhm– just nervous." He laughed sheepishly.

Finally, he gathered courage to play the song he wanted to show you. His song. You leaned in, trying to pay close attention to the melodies and words. Michael had showed you songs he was making before, wanting your opinion, but this one...

There was something so sweet, so vulnerable about his words. Just hearing him sing made your stomach all fluttery, and your cheeks go red.

You glanced at him for a moment. His eyes were fixated on your every move.

You giggled.

"Is this about me?"

"Yes." Michael's smile went wider than you could've ever imagined. He looked so proud of himself. "What do you think? Do you like it?"

"Like it? Mike, I–" you hid your face in your hands, unable to contain your smile. For a moment, Michael thought he made you upset, but then you started tapping your feet on the ground, a habit you had when you got excited. "I love it."

Your voice was muffled in your hands, but he heard you loud and clear.

Michael grabbed your fingers, taking your hands off your face.

"Then I guess I've done it."

"Done what?"

Michael turned to the side, suddenly a bit embarrassed, like he didn't just make the most romantic gesture for you.

"I made you happy."

You felt your heart hammering in your chest. With a delicate touch, you turned Michael's face back to you, landing a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I love you." Your voice came out almost like a whisper, like a secret (in a way, it was). "You always make me happy, Michael. Whether you're just smiling at me or writing me a song."

He nuzzled his face against yours, holding onto your hand.

"...I love you too, baby." He answered, giving you a gentle peck. Then he kissed your nose, and cheeks, and forehead, and–

"Okay! Michael!" You tried running away from his overly affectionate kisses, but you couldn't escape him.

Not like you really wanted to.

A few weeks later, Michael released that same song to the public in his new album.

Obviously it was a hit.

Radio stations played it nonstop, fans and casual listeners couldn't stop talking about it, and magazine articles kept wondering about what was the inspiration behind Michael's most romantic song yet.

"Did you hear?" Your co-worker asked you one day. "Michael Jackson's going to be interviewed live today! I already told everyone to not bother me past 6pm!"

You feigned surprise. You knew Michael's schedule front to back, so obviously you knew about that interview. You also hated it, because it was going to take your precious 30 minutes of the day... But you supposed you could wait until tomorrow.

As soon as the time for the interview arrived, you made yourself comfortable on your couch and tuned into the channel.

And there was Michael. Beautiful, polite and kind as always.

You giggled to yourself. If only the world knew that man was yours.

The interview was... Rather shallow, to say the least. Only a few interesting questions here and there, but then, the man suddenly went on a tangent:

"I've heard your new song, by the way. It's really catchy."

"Thank you." Michael nodded, his sunglasses still on.

"Now, this isn't really something I personally care about," you rolled your eyes. It always was, it was their job to get the juiciest information out to the public. "But may I ask the inspiration behind it? Who was it you were thinking about while recording the song?"

You watched as Michael let out a shy chuckle, stroking his cheek. He didn't answer for a while, which made even you nervous, wondering what he'd say.

"Well... There definitely is an inspiration."

"Who?"

Michael laughed again.

"I'd rather keep it private."

Your cheeks went red.

"Oh," the interviewer got closer, knowing something was behind his closed off demeanor. "Is it a girl? A lover, maybe?"

"As I said, that's a private matter." He nodded, taking his glasses off for a moment. His eyes looked directly into the camera for just a second, and you felt like he was looking straight at you. "It's a secret between us."

A giddy grin tugged at your lips, and you felt your heart race a mile per minute. He was so, so silly. He knew exactly what he was doing, sending you a sweet, secret message like that.

It made you love Michael even more.

"Mike, you could've been caught!"

"But I wasn't." He playfully answered, now at his home, his telephone against his ear as he heard you laugh at the other end of the line.

"Seriously... You gotta be more careful."

"Trust me." He reassured you, voice soft. "I know what I'm doing. And besides," you could almost hear the way he was smirking. "Don't act like you didn't like what I said."

"I'm gonna hang up on you."

"No, no, no, I was kidding!"

It was a day like any other, or so it would seem. You and Michael would eventually meet later that day, once you were done with work and he was done with rehearsals.

He has been especially hard on himself lately, working too much and apologizing way too many times for the lack of attention he's been giving you. It's not like you didn't miss him, you did, dearly. But you understood why he was pushing himself so much, and didn't fully had it in you to tell him to be with you more when he was preparing for a tour.

"I have an idea." He started, his head still lay on your lap as you softly messed with his curls. "Why don't you come with me?"

You let out a laugh.

"I'm serious!"

"Mike, I can't drop my job to go with you on tour."

"Okay, maybe not on the whole tour," he sat up, turning to look you deep in the eyes. He was determined to not let the subject die. "But maybe just for one concert, hm? I'll give you vip tickets. You'll be in the best section and can even come see me after I perform."

"Michael." You warned him, but couldn't help a small smile on your face. You loved how he tried to include you, even when he was so busy.

"Please, it'll be fun." His hand made its way to your face, stroking your cheek. "Just for one night, hm? And you can come back home later. Please?"

You stared at his doe eyes for a while, but you knew you couldn't say no to him. Not when he was so expectant to have you around him for at least one concert.

He'd asked you time and time again to come with him on tour, and every time you denied it, saying it was too risky.

It would be fine to indulge him just this once, no?

And so, here you were, on the VIP section of his first concert, watching him give a masterful performance on stage.

It was like he was one with music, his body moving in a way no one else could, his voice so strong you were sure it could be heard through thunder. Your chest filled with warmth as the song died down, the last lyrics being whispered into the mic.

And then, a familiar beat started.

"This one," his voice came out weak, tired of moving around so much. "It's very dear to me. Very, very dear."

Michael turned around.

His eyes found yours among the sea of fans.

His voice filled the air around the stadium.

There was shouting and screaming everywhere around you, but your focus was only on Michael. How he kept looking at you, glancing at your direction.

Your pulse quickened at the lyrics, how he seemed to mean each and every word. And you knew he was serious about it.

In this very public space, somehow, Michael managed to tell you he loved you.

He even blew a kiss to you – or to the fans, for the bystanders watching.

After the show ended, you were taken backstage by Bill, who helped you hide from the general public and even staff members. And once you reached Michael's dressing room, you couldn't help it.

Your arms were around him immediately.

Bill quickly closed the door behind you two.

"You're so sappy." You mocked, still extremely flustered. Michael laughed, sweaty, tired, but happy nonetheless. "Is that why you wanted me to come so badly? So you could serenate me?"

"Serenate! 'course not, you're imagining things." His voice carried mischief with him as he leaned into your touch. "But if you liked it..." He pampered you with kisses all over your face, only stopping when you pushed his face away, palms holding his cheeks.

"Your ridiculously cheesy."

Michael giggled.

"But you like it!"

After Michael's dedicated song to you, along with his sneaky message in his interview, the media had started speculating even more about Michael's love life.

He never answered things too deeply, too intimately. He was used to sending you signals but only in ways that no one else would notice, but it was starting to become a problem.

For example, this week's magazine started claiming he was dating another celebrity.

"Baby, you know I would never." He insisted, sitting next to you as you frowned at the magazine in your hands. He sighed, taking it from you and getting up to throw it in the trash. "They just want attention. I don't have the least interest in her."

You bit your lip. You knew that.

But the rest of the world didn't.

You clicked your tongue, looking to the side. Michael kneeled in front of you, his fingers gently moving your face towards him.

"Baby, do you trust me?"

You inhaled deeply. "...of course."

"Then why are you so upset?"

"I just–" you stopped yourself, as if worried you might say something wrong, but Michael just sat there, waiting. "I hate that... That I can't do anything about it."

Silence settled between you two after that.

Michael kissed both your hands quietly, and reassured you: "Please don't stress that pretty head of yours, alright? I'll fix everything."

And so, later that week, there was a news report about Michael making a public statement.

"Me and her are not together." He simply said. "I deeply admire her work, and I see her as a good friend. Nothing more or less."

Reporters went crazy, and one even pointed her mic at him, insisting: "Michael, is there someone you're seeing? Who's the lady you dedicated your song to?"

Michael stayed quiet for a moment, and you, who was still at work, tightened your grip on the report in your hands.

"That's private." He started. "But my heart already belongs to someone."

And the press went crazy. So did your co-workers.

For a brief moment, you felt yourself smiling.

Michael was always caring. Always sweet.

But still...

You teared your eyes off the TV, turning back to your report, a small frown forming on your features.

Stupid tabloids.

You tried not thinking much about the rumors regarding Michael's love life. You didn't believe any of it, you knew wholeheartedly Michael would never betray you like this.

But you hated feeling powerless.

While Michael was out there, discrediting rumors, and accidentally making even more of a mess by consistently admiting he had someone he loved, but refused to disclose who she was... You just stayed quiet.

At your work. At your home. Silent. Unable to speak on your relationship and how upset these rumors made you.

Unable to tell the world how in love you were.

So... You didn't. You smiled, and pretended to be fine when Michael came around your home, or when he invited you to a private date.

You didn't want to bother him. After all, he was the target of unashamed gossip, not you.

"There's going to be a performance this Friday," Michael began after he finished eating a bowl of popcorn you had prepared for your weekly movie session. "I really want you to watch it."

"Friday?" You turned your head, putting the soda can back on your coffee table, intrigued. "Is it for that charity event?"

"Yes, to raise money for a local hospital." He explained. "I want you to watch me perform."

You blinked.

"I always watch you perform, Michael."

"Yes, but," he sighed. It was like there was something he wanted to tell you, but couldn't. "Just promise me you'll watch it for certain? No ifs, ands or buts?"

"Well... If it means that much to you, then sure." You nodded, still not fully understanding. But there wasn't any harm in it, you always liked to watch him perform.

And so, on Friday, at the exact time, you arrived at the place. Bill made sure to help get you to a comfortable and close enough position to the stage, and so it began.

It was a show like any other Michael pulled off: impeccable dancing, beautiful and raw singing and the sheer force of his talent being felt amongst the crowd.

Towards the very end, Michael started a speech about the charity, and you felt your heart warm. It made you happy to know how beautiful of a human being he was, using his platform for something like this.

But then, there was a small tangent.

"I don't want to make this about my own personal problems," Michael started, his voice suddenly heavy with guilt. "But I feel like I must address this issue as soon as possible."

The crowd went silent for a moment and you felt your heart drop.

What did he mean by problems?

"There have been a lot of rumors about me. There always have been. But lately, I've noticed that it hasn't only affected me, but the people around me." His voice failed, and his head turned to the part of the crowd where you were located. His eyes locked with yours. "It's been hurting the one I love."

Your eyes widened as whispers and murmurs began around you.

"I am not together with any of those celebrities the media insists on. I do not hold any romantic feelings towards any of them." Michael paused, looking away from you for a moment and inhaled deeply. "I already have a girlfriend." His words went soft, a smile tugging on his lips. "And I love her very much."

The fans went crazy. You were sure the reporters around to cover the event were already talking about it to their expectators.

But none of it mattered.

"These stories have been making her upset and sad. So please, stop."

Your eyes stung with unshed tears, and you were glad it was considered normal for people to have such strong emotional reactions to Michael. At least, you could hide under the disguise of being a disillusioned fan.

Michael had just told the world he was already someone else's.

He was yours.

"Thank you for listening. And thank you for showing up to the event." He ended his speech, a worried look landing on you. "Please, respect our privacy. Her privacy."

And with that, the event ended.

You were brought back to Michael's car, with a mask on just in case any paparazzi or the like would notice another presence inside his vehicle.

Once Michael entered the car, you hugged him immediately.

"Thank you." You whispered, voice shaky as you tried to not cry.

Michael cradled your head with one of his hands, the other moving up and down your back as he kissed your head.

"It's the least I could do." He nuzzled his face against you. "When you're ready, we can take it to the public if you want, 'kay?"

"Okay."

There was an award ceremony coming up, and as one of the nominees, Michael was obviously going.

Usually, you helped him get ready if he asked you for help, and watched the whole thing through TV. Michael would always find a way to make you smile in his speeches, sneakily mentioning you.

You were used to enjoying everything hidden.

But this time, Michael specifically asked for your company.

"You... You want me to go with you?" You repeated the question, stopping your knife mid air, the vegetables for your meal not fully cut. Michael chuckled at your reaction.

"If you want. I would love to have you as my plus one, finally." He admitted, leaning against the kitchen counter. "But only if you're okay with it."

You stayed quiet for a minute. You remembered in the past when Michael would show up with his exes at award shows and different events, and when you started dating him, although terrified of the attention, you always wondered what would it feel to be so publicly in love with him.

To not care about what anyone would say.

"I... Are you sure?"

"A thousand percent."

"I don't... I don't know if I have the right clothes."

"We can go shopping."

"What if they ask me strange questions?"

"I'll tell them to stop."

"Wha–"

"Baby." You stopped, biting your own tongue as Michael stared at you. "Do you want to go or not?"

"...yes."

He smiled, kissing your forehead.

"Then I promise I'll make it the best night for you."

The days up until the award night were very nerve-wracking to you. You obsessed over clothes and etiquette, and if you weren't so stressed Michael would've it was all hilarious. But instead, he helped soothe your worries by complimenting you and reminding you that he'd be right by your side.

When the day came, you didn't feel any better. You smoothed out your dress while in Michael's car thousands of times, and tried to breathe slowly to force your brain to calm down.

The car stopped. A crowd of fans and reporters waited outside the venue. You gulped.

"Remember, just be yourself." Michael held your hand tightly, squeezing it ever so slightly. You nodded.

Getting out of the vehicle and into the venue was already hard enough. All eyes on you and Michael, the cameras and reporters turned to you immediately, but Michael refused to answer any questions.

You sat down on a table, Michael gave you a glass of water.

"Are you alright?"

You sipped on your drink, humming to your boyfriend. Still, you tapped on your cup anxiously, and Michael frowned a little bit.

"...I'm sorry." He started, catching your attention. "I didn't want to force you to do something you don't want to do."

"What? No! Michael, you didn't force me to do anything." It was your turn to hold his hand reassuringly. "I came here because I wanted to."

"Are you sure? You just... You look nervous."

"Of course I'm nervous. This is my first time." Your voice went soft as your fingers began stroking his skin. "Michael, I want to do this. I want to be able to love you publicly, to not be afraid to tell the world I love you." You paused, your hand moving up to cup his cheek. "I'm nervous, yes... But I want to do this for us."

Michael couldn't argue with that, so he let the subject die. But you noticed how he made an effort to never stay away from you for too long, often holding your arm or hand.

But Michael had to leave you for a moment, when they were presenting the winner of a specific category.

And Michael won. As usual.

Before he left to the stage, crowds cheering and screaming, he kissed your hand and whispered he'd be back with his award. You let him go with a warm smile, ignoring the cameras that seemed to catch both him and you.

The focus was directed to Michael as soon as he went up the stage, thanked the host and held his award.

"Thank you, thank you..." He began, his sweet and melodic voice echoing throughout the place. "First of all, I'd like to thank God, who makes all things possible."

Michael began his usual speech, kind as he was, thanking his team, friends, family and fans... And then, he paused, as if thinking about something.

"I'd also like to thank a very dear person to me." His eyes landed on you, and you felt your pulse quickening. He smiled. "She's with me today, my girlfriend." As he said your name, the cameras seemed to turn to you for a moment, to catch your reaction to his words. But your focus was fully on Michael. "I know staying with me, hidden from the public, was really hard for you, baby. Thank you for staying on my side, and believing in me always."

You chuckled, hiding your mouth with your hand as you laughed. Michael grinned.

"You're the love of my life, thank you for your support."

The crowd erupted into applause, but all you could focus on was him walking offstage to you. As he found you, he showed you the award like a kid showing someone their drawing.

You couldn't help but laugh.

"Congratulations, Mike."

"I should be saying that to you." He answered, sitting beside you and ignoring the watchful eyes of the others, even as the host continued with the awards.

You tilted your head at his words.

"Why? I didn't do anything worth congratulating."

"'course you did!" He smiled, handing you his award, as if you were the one being celebrated. "You had the courage to come here and face the whole world. Congratulations, baby."

You felt your eyes sting at that, but refused to let any tears drop. With a smile, you held onto his award, looking at every detail.

But then you turned, watching Michael. His big dark brown eyes, angelic little curls and warm smile.

"Well, then, thank you."

"You're very welcome!"

You both laughed, ignoring the world around you for once.

Everybody had secrets, but one way or another, they'll always come to light.

You're just happy this is how yours did.

[am3sss]

summary: during michael’s invincible album release, he does a meet and greet with his fans. not only does he meet the cutest little boy, but his mother might also be a sweet lil thing too..

sorry guys been xtra busy recently. more stories and the requests coming next week, also thank u for all the requests i’ve seen them and will be writing𑣲⋆

“are you okay, baby” you said quietly, crouching slightly to whisper in the boys ear.

“i’m okay mama, it’s just very loud” zain whispered back, his head slightly bowed, the fedora tipping slightly.

you grabbed his tiny hand tighter, squeezing it to reassure him that you were there protecting him and nobody would hurt him.

you and zain were stood around 6 people away from michael, his cd signing allowing 500 lucky fans to get into the store.

when you had heard of the chance to meet michael, you did absolutely everything in your power to do so, for your little boy.

zain had loved michael from the moment he had first heard him on the tv when he was 1 years old. he had heard black or white, standing infront of the tv watching the music video whilst shaking his little shoulders, asking you to replay it multiple times before it became practically engrained into the walls.

it was then you went down a rabbit hole with him, playing every michael jackson song that was available to play at his request, his favourites accumulating to don’t stop till you get enough and remember the time.

he had even stood in the living room trying to copy the dangerous dance breakdown, eventually almost mastering it to the best of his toddler abilities.

he had become one of michael’s biggest fans, and he was only three and a half years old.

now you both were stood in the music shop, blessed to receive access after you had bought the invincible cd the day before, your son had been wrapped up in your arms as he bounced up and down, so excited to get his hands on the music.

the line finally began to shorten after what felt like years of being stood in the same spot, the sequins on zain’s white glove digging into the skin of your palms. his tiny suit ruffled every time his legs moved, restless from standing still for so long.

the table became easier to see as you got closer, michael sat there whilst his hands signed the cd alongside listening attentively to what the fan infront of him was saying, nodding politely.

you picked zain up, placing him onto your hip so you could talk to him closer.

“okay we are nearly there now, don’t worry baby. can you see him right there” before pointing towards michael.

“oh my gosh mama! he’s right there!” he squealed slightly, his hands grabbing your shoulders and wrapping around the back of your neck to hug you.

you giggled at his excitement, so happy to see your son laughing and getting tense with energy.

the joy ran like honey through your veins, it had been a difficult few months. struggling with money in order to put food on the table for your son and you and paying for clothes and bills. but you had finally gathered your footing, starting a new job that payed exceptionally, now able to fund zain’s michael jackson obsession.

the large, burly security guard stood next to the large sign beside the table, gently guiding you and your son forward and putting space between you and the person behind you, probably wanting to protect the little boy that shuffled his feet in anticipation along the carpeted floor.

michael’s eyes scanned the room, moving down the line towards the people he was about to meet. his dark brown eyes glinting and glittering under the bright lights before locking onto someone, the little boy dressed up as him. he laughed out loud, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as he stared in shock.

michael tried to focus on what the man standing in front of him was saying, his hands signing the cd with the all too familiar signature, but his mind and eyes kept wandering back to the little boy.

you moved forward, going up the steps of the platform to the table, guiding your son towards the table. your heartbeat began to race, an unexpected nervousness overcoming you at the sight of the handsome king of pop.

the cloth covered table covered the majority of zain’s body, only his bright eyes and fedora peeking over at him, his hands gripping the table so tight his knuckles nearly turned white.

“come on, honey, he can’t see your outfit” you said, laughing quietly at his pose.

your hands went under zain’s arms, placing him onto the table infront of you, hands resting gently on his lower back to steady him and make him feel safe. a symphony of ‘awh’ echoed behind you, the cuteness of the moment forcing everyone to look.

michael laughed loudly, his head tipping back before his head came forward, looking over zain’s outfit in awe.

“you look like me!” michael exclaimed, his voice going a tiny bit higher, his finger grazing zain’s tiny knuckles.

“well… i-i… mamaaa” zain stuttered, turning around suddenly and burying his face into your neck.

he had become all of a sudden to nervous to even look michael in the eye, one of his favourite people ever was stood infront of him but all the attention was too much.

“it’s okay, baby. look, show him your dance moves, you said to me before that you wanted to show him something didn’t you?”

your comforting hand running over the length of his back, trying to coerce him to turn around to look at michael, who was staring at him in awe and you with a certain look in his eye that you couldn’t quite name.

zain turned, his back pressing against your chest as he leant against you. he looked at michael, a tiny hand coming out for him to shake.

“hi, i’m zain” he whispered, the other hand coming up near his mouth.

“hi zain, it’s lovely to meet you! you look amazing, your mama said you wanted to show me something?” he leant closer, his other hand coming up to bend the small fedora back to uncover his face.

zain shuffled forward a little bit, before getting into position. he span in a circle, the cloth bunching under his feet, before he brought one hand to his lower stomach and one hand to his hat, his leg propping out. zain ended his quick performance with his hand grasping the little fedora and tilting it down to block his face, and then coming up to a point.

michael clapped, getting to his feet to give him a proper standing ovation. he wrapped the boy up in his arms, giving him a hug and a kiss on the top of his head, a huge smile painted across his face.

“wow, that was amazing! you could take my place one day.”

looking at the interaction between michael and zain, any random person would think it was between a father and son the way he cared so much. he held his hands in his, nodding along and consistently complimenting zain, whether it was on his dance moves, his outfit or his cute curly hair.

“and mama must be very proud of you, huh? at having a son with such god given talent” michael said suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts, your eyes meeting his.

“oh he’s amazing, he’s loved you since he’s been able to move around, always dancing in the living room to your songs, aren’t you?” you tickled zain’s sides lightly, causing a high pitched giggle to fall from his mouth.

“is that so, zain? well you have made my day with your little dance moves and your cute little smile” michael said, “guess we know who he got that from”

his eyes locked onto your face, more specifically your shiny lips, before running up and down your body, taking in your full appearance.

you shyly dipped your head, a small, nervous tilt of your lips making you look even more prettier to michael. the black zip of your bag brushed against your hands as you opened it, reaching into grab the cd and place it on the table.

“zain was so excited to come here, dressing up as you was his idea actually. but it was a surprise cause he usually doesn't like wearing this stuff” you looked at zain, his hands locking infront of him as he swayed from side to side.

michael’s hands took the cd off of the table, before taking the cap off the pen and bringing his head down, writing a little message to zain with absolute concentration before signing off with his iconic signature.

you turned your head to zain, tilting his hat back and pulling his jacket down as it had ridden up to his waist in all of the chaos. you asked how he was, wondering if this was becoming too much for him before he smiled at you, confirming that he was as happy as can be.

“here you go, little man”

he placed the cd in zain’s hands, his large eyes scanning over the writing before turning it towards you.

“mama, what does it say?”

you and michael burst into laughter, zain’s head tilted as he looked at you with confusion.

“we will read it later baby, come on”

the security guard motioned to michael that it was time for you to move on, the moment stopping all too soon for his liking, but he understood the need to keep on time.

“well it was lovely to meet you zain, and you too mama, you have raised him beautifully” he whispered towards you, his hand taking yours in a handshake before bringing it to his lips.

you felt your body get hot, eyes widening in shock, a slight sweat building up on your brow bone as you grew increasingly flustered.

turning towards zain, a nervous laughter bubbling in your chest as you moved to pick him up off of the table.

“say bye, zain” you whispered in his ear.

zain shot forward, wrapping his arms around michael’s neck in a hug, his face buried into the crook of his shoulder.

michael’s large hands moved to his back, one supporting his back, the other engulfing the back of his curly hair. his eyes shut as a warm smile grew on his face at the young child’s sweetness.

“bye zain, thank you for coming today”

zain moved backwards towards you, his legs wrapping around your waist and head resting against your chest, your hands moving to grip his back slacks to hold him up.

he waved a small goodbye, his eyes filling with tears at the departure.

“bye mikey!”

you smiled at michael, before walking down the steps, around the back of the set up to leave the store.

zain stifled a small cry, his lip trembling and a few tears slipping down his chubby cheeks.

“mama, i miss him already” he muttered into your shirt, your hand resting on his head.

michael’s doe eyes followed you out, before turning slightly to his head of security and whispering something into his ear before getting a nod in return.

the man gripped the walkie-talkie on his waist and brought it up to his lips before saying something inaudible into it.

as you walked closer to the door, whispering comfort into zain’s ears as he sobbed gently into your neck, a man dressed in black stopped you, the words ‘SECURITY’ painted across his chest.

“are you zain’s mother, the little boy michael just met?” the man said, sounding very serious, a pit forming in your stomach.

“oh um.. yes i am, is there a problem?” your voice twinged with confusion, wondering if you had done anything wrong.

he glanced around to see if anyone was nearby before reaching into his pocket, pulling out a folded note and placing into your slightly closed hand that rested on zain’s hip.

“have a good day, ma’am” ,turning and walking back to the cd signing.

staring in confusion at the man’s back as he walked away, you glanced back at your son, a deflated look painted across his face.

“let’s go and get something to eat, and we can read what michael put on the cd, yeah?”

you walked into the cozy restaurant, being led to a booth in the corner, placing him along with your bags into the corner and sitting down yourself.

you read zain the menu, allowing him to pick what he wanted before reading it off to the waiter along with your own order.

the day had clearly began to wear on zain, his eyes beginning to droop and gradually becoming more clingy and wanting your affection.

you wrapped your arms around his shoulder, guiding him to lean against you as you held the cd in your hands.

“should we read this together then, baby?”

zain nodded his head, his legs swinging over your thighs and getting more comfy so you can read the message to him.

“okay, it says: dear zain, thank you for showing me your dance moves, i was very impressed at how good you are - especially that spin, that was amazing. i might have some competition!

keep dancing, keep smiling and i hope you enjoy this album, maybe you can make some new moves for me? love, michael jackson”

zain’s smile widened, his pearly teeth showing, “mama, he said that i was amazing?”

“he did, baby! you must have blown him away with your coolness!” you giggled, ruffling his curls as his eyes squinted due to his grin.

you turned the cd in your hands to look at the full thing, before flipping it onto the back, black marker standing out against the blue background.

your eyebrows furrowed at it, wondering how you had missed him writing on the back.

‘mama, there is something very special about your son, the way he allows the music to take over his body is amazing, it reminds me of when i was a child. he has a beautiful spirit and i hope he keeps that for the rest of his life. you have done an amazing job at raising him.

take care of yourself, michael’

you read it in your head, a warmth in your chest growing. someone else had noticed the spark in your boy, the ever growing spark growing brighter in his eyes as he grew older, something different from the other children in his class.

remembering the note that had been placed into your hand and then stuffed into your bag as you focused on finding somewhere to eat in the big city, slipping into the black purse and pulling out the note.

‘please call me, i would love to meet you and your wonderful son again. - michael’

the number underneath was written in big bold letters, a contrast to the cursive writing on the cd, obviously written by the security guard.

smiling at not only the note on both the cd and the paper, but also at your sons excitement, the plates clinked against the table.

grabbing the knife and fork and cutting your sons food into smaller pieces, passing the fork to him to eat.

“i’m glad you had fun today, baby. i love you”

[y56n11]

THRILLER

Michael Jackson x Female!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety mentioned, especially social anxiety. Reader is shy. Reader is mentioned as a girl.

Summary: you’re a shy actress who’s unsuccessful, until you got a call saying you got the role as the leading lady in Michael’s short movie thriller. Quickly building a bond with Michael.

The ceiling fan in your apartment had a rhythmic click that usually helped you focus, but today it felt more like a countdown. You sat at your kitchen table, a lukewarm cup of tea forgotten beside your elbow, staring at a stack of headshots that felt more like apologies rather than actual professional resumes.

The rent notice sat on the table in front of you like a predatory animal, it’s bold red letters taunting the stack of loose change beside it. You sighed, the sound echoing through the tiny one bedroom apartment that smelled faintly of nettle tea and old floorboards.

Living in LA was supposed to be your dream. Instead it was a series of cold repetitive auditions, polite “no’s,” and long shifts at the diner from across the street. Your parents’ voice still haunting the edges of your brain, “acting isn’t a career, it’s a hobby,” your father had said plainly not taking you seriously, his face set in stone. “When you’re ready to be serious, there’s a desk at the firm waiting for you.”

You hadn’t spoken to them in six months. The pride was a heavy weight, but the anxiety and rush of proving them right was heavier. You were a shy girl by nature, the kind who preferred to be alone in a library on weekends rather than a spotlight, yet when you stepped into character it was the only time when the world made a little more sense. The only time you felt brave.

The sudden, shrill ring of a telephone nearly made you fall off of your chair. You hurried to the wall mounted unit, your heart hammering violently against your ribs.

“Hello?”

“Is this the girl who can actually scream, or am I calling the wrong number?”

It was Rick, your agent. He was a fast talking man who usually only called you to tell you the news of being let down from another audition.

“Rick? Yes, it’s me,” you said your voice small and nervous as you fidgeted with the cord.

“Pack your bags- well, don’t pack your bags, just get your head on straight. You remember that cattle call for the Landis project? The music film?”

You held your breath. You remembered every detail. The room had been loud and chaotic, filled with gorgeous women ready to audition while you had sat in the far corner, nervously going over your script. Feeling like a plain sparrow among peacocks.

“Yes.” You answered, too nervous to give any other sort of answer.

“They want you. Not as an extra. Not as a body in the back. You’re the girl. The lead. The girl in the theatre and in the woods.” Rick was practically vibrating, you could tell he was proud of you, you had waited so long for this. “It’s Michael Jackson, kid. The Thriller short film. You start rehearsals tomorrow.”

The world seemed to tilt. The Thriller song was everywhere, blaring from cars, within every shop. And Michael Jackson? He wasn’t just any regular singer.

“Me?” You spluttered out. “Are you positive?”

“Landis liked your ‘authentic vulnerability.’ His words, not mine. Don’t mess this up. A car will be there at eight. Be ready.”

The line went dead. You started at your yellowish peeling wallpaper, your hands and legs shaking so hard you had to sink down to the floor to sit for a second. You? The girl who apologised to furniture when she accidentally bumped into it? You were going to be on camera with the most famous man on the planet.

The next morning you were buzzing with anxiety. When the black car pulled up outside your crumbling apartment building, the neighbours stared. You kept your head down avoiding eye contact, your stomach currently performing a series of complicated gymnastics.

The production office was a mess of activity. People with headsets seemed to be dashing back and forth, carrying racks of clothes and prosthetic makeup. You felt like you were intruding, a mistake waiting to be corrected.

“You must be the lead,” a woman holding a clipboard said, looking you up and down. “John’s in the back with Michael, they’re going over the choreography. Follow me.”

Every step felt like you were walking towards a gallows. They’re going to realise I’m boring, you thought. They’re going to realise I’m just some ordinary girl they accidentally chose and they’ll send me home.

The woman led you into a large, empty, open rehearsal space. The space was quiet, no music was playing, but the anxiety buzzing seemed to make everything feel loud. In the centre of the room stood a man. He was slender, wearing black trousers and a red corduroy shirt, his hair styled into those iconic curls. He was talking to John Landis, the director, but he stopped the moment you entered.

John instantly beamed. “Ah! There she is. Michael, meet our leading lady.”

You felt the blood drain from your face. You stood there, frozen, your fingers interlaced so tightly they were turning white.

Michael stepped forward. You expected an aura of untouchable cool, cockiness or even rudeness. Instead, he moved with a curious, light-footed grace that seemed almost hesitant.

“Hi,” he simply said.

He seemed incredibly gentle. He stopped a few feet away, giving you your space, his dark eyes wide and searching.

“I’m Y/N.” You said quietly, yet loud enough for Michael to hear you.

A small, shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He looked down at his feet for a second before meeting your eyes again. "I’m Michael. It’s very nice to meet you. John showed me your tape. You have very expressive eyes. You look like you’re really feeling what the character feels."

"I was mostly just terrified," you admitted before you could stop yourself.

Michael let out a soft, melodic laugh. It wasn't a mocking sound, it was warm. "Me too. Most of the time."

In that moment, the crushing weight of your anxiety lifted just an inch. He was the biggest star in the world, and he was standing here, fidgeting with his sleeve, trying to make you feel comfortable.

You blinked. "You? But you're... you're Michael Jackson."

He shrugged a shoulder, a casual gesture that made him seem remarkably human. "The lights and the cameras help. But when it's just people... it's a little scary, isn't it?"

"It's very scary," you agreed, your voice steadier.

"We’ll be scared together, then," Michael said, his eyes crinkling. "That makes it easier."

The first few days of filming were a whirlwind. You spent hours in hair and makeup, being transformed into the girl of the 1950s for the movie. Michael was everywhere, consulting with the makeup artists on the zombie designs, practicing his footwork in the corner, or huddled with Landis.

But despite his busy schedule, he always found a way to check on you.

"Are you warm enough?" he’d ask during a break in the chilly night air of the backlot, gesturing for an assistant to bring you a jacket.

"I'm okay, Michael. Really," you’d say, touched by the gesture.

One evening, while the crew was resetting a complicated lighting rig for the theater exterior, you found yourself sitting on a prop crate, tucked away from the main bustle. You were reading a worn paperback, trying to keep your mind from spiraling into the "what if I mess up the next take" abyss.

"What are you reading?"

You looked up to see Michael standing there. He had his varsity jacket on, the one he’d be wearing for the scene. He looked like a regular teenager, albeit a very handsome one.

"Oh, it's just a book of poetry," you said, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "It helps me stay calm."

"Can I see?"

You handed it to him. He sat down on the crate next to you, not too close, respecting that invisible bubble of space you always kept around yourself. He flipped through the pages with slender, delicate fingers.

"I like this," he whispered, reading a line to himself. He handed the book back, his eyes lingering on yours. "You’re very quiet, Y/N. People on sets are usually so loud. They want everyone to look at them."

"I don't really want people to look at me," you confessed, looking at your shoes. "I just want to do a good job. I think my agent thinks I’m a bit of a lost cause because I don't network." Michael nodded slowly, as if he understood better than anyone.

He stayed with you for ten minutes, just sitting in the comfortable silence. He didn't demand entertainment, he didn't try to impress you. He just existed in the space with you. When the 1st AD called for "Michael on mark," he stood up and brushed off his jeans.

Before he stepped away, he reached out. It wasn't a grand gesture; he simply tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingertips grazed your skin, a brief spark of warmth that felt far more intimate than a hug would have.

He didn't pull his hand back immediately. He let his thumb trail lightly along your jawline, a silent, grounding touch that seemed to say I see you.

"If the craft services guy tries to give you that burnt coffee again," Michael added with a quick, lopsided grin, "tell him you're with me. I’ll make sure you get the good stuff from my trailer later."

After a couple of more rehearsals with Michael, you can’t help but feel as if you’ve gotten more comfortable with him. The idea that at the beginning you thought Michael would’ve been cocky seems bizarre to you now.

4 days have passed, it’s the last day of shooting. You can’t help but feel sad, it was the first big project you had ever been apart of, but that wasn’t the main thing that was concerning you. It was the fact that you might not see Michael again.

It was near the end of the short movie, you had been asked to give Michael a small kiss. They hadn’t specify what sort of kiss, on the cheek? On the forehead? Lips? You were anxious, but right in the middle of your chest you could feel a light buzz of excitement.

You were talking with Michael, and you couldn’t help yourself but ask, “where do you want me to kiss you?” Michael looked down at you, a grin splitting onto his face. “Where would you like to kiss me?”

The cameras were rolling, Michael tapped you on the shoulder, your character’s fear facade crumbling as she came to realisation. You stood up as Michael wrapped a arm around your shoulder, quickly you leaned over and gave Michael a kiss which landed on his jaw.

A red lipstick mark appeared perfectly on his jaw, as you looked up you saw the faint hue of a deep red across his cheekbones. He smiled nervously.

After the recording finished you felt sad as you slipped on your coat. You reached into your pockets aching for some warmth from the cold, that’s when you felt a piece of paper neatly folded. You pulled it out and unfolded it and there you saw messily scribbled was Michael’s number.

[y56n11]

YOUR TYPE?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ Michael Jackson 80s x Female!Reader

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ Part 2 Here

Summary ཆི❤︎ཆྀ: at a sleepover with Michael, he asks you nervously what your type is. You know exactly how to push his buttons so you describe exactly him, only to see how flustered he’d get.

Tags ཆི❤︎ཆྀ: Childhood best friends, shy Michael, Fluff pure fluff, 80’s Michael, plz send me more ideas 🙏

The year was 1984, and the air in California felt like it was humming with electric energy of Michael’s successful career.

At Hayvenhurst, the Jackson family estate, the world was often kept at bay by high walls and security gates, but inside, with Michael you felt safe. It was late at night and you were sleeping over, after Michael had called you complaining that he was bored and needed company. You had grown used to sleepovers with him, especially since you used to sleep over at his house since you were small (being neighbours and all).

You were sprawled across the thick, cream coloured carpet of Michael’s bedroom at the bottom of his bed. A VHS tape of The Goonies was flickering on the television, the light casting a long shadow across the room.

Michael was sitting on the edge of his massive, four poster bed, his hair a soft, dark halo of curls that hadn’t been slicked back for the stage. He was idly flipping through a photograph book, but his eyes kept flicking back to you.

This was your ritual, from cramped dressing rooms in Gary and the hot California sun, you had been his anchor. You were the only one who didn’t look at him and expected something from him. To you, he was just Michael, the boy who used to hide your shoes to anger you and the man who still enjoys your company.

“Hey,” Michael said softly, his voice cutting through the movie.

“Yeah?” You didn’t look at him, your eyes still fixated on the screen.

“I was thinking about something.” He paused, the sound of him nervously tapping his fingers against the book’s spine echoing quietly through the room. “You’ve… you’ve been seeing a lot of people lately. Well, not seeing them, but people have been asking about you. At the studio, and that guy on the film set from last week.”

You finally looked up at him. “Are you talking about Greg? He’s just a camera assistant, Mike. He’s nice and all that, but he’s not… you know.”

Michael tilted his head, his dark eyes wide and curious. “Not what? What is it that you’re looking for? I realised I’ve known you for years, but I don’t think I’ve ever asked you what your ‘type’ is.”

He said the word type nervously, like it was a foreign ground he hadn’t stepped onto yet.

You crossed your legs, leaning your back against the bed. A idea flickered into your head. You knew Michael better than he knew himself, so you knew exactly how to push his buttons.

“My type?” You mused, tapping your fingers against your chin for the extra effect. “Hmm. I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Come on,” Michael nudged your shoulder, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Describe him. The perfect guy for you. A business man?”

“Definitely not a business man,” you laughed. “No, I think my type is more… specific.”

Michael leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his full attention locked onto you, the movie playing completely forgotten. “Specific, how?”

“Well,” you looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “First of all, he has to be kind. Genuinely deeply kind. Not just the type of person who says typical manners, but the type of person who actually cares.”

Michael’s expression softened. He blinked slowly. “That’s a good trait. What else?”

“Psychically?” You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. He was waiting patiently. “I think I like someone with wide, dark eyes. And I’ve always had a thing for dark, curly hair. The kind that looks kinda messy.”

Michael cleared his throat, a faint pink hue beginning to creep up his neck. “Curly hair. Right.”

“I’d like for him to be talented but humble about it.”

Michael shifted on the bed, his movements becoming a tad bit more fidgety. He was starting to catch on. He didn’t want to be vain enough to assume you were talking about him, yet the details were becoming hard to ignore.

“…very specific.” Michael murmured, his voice dropping an octave.

“Oh, he is,” you continued. “He has to be funny, and like playful. He’s willing to have fun y’know?”

Michael nodded. he laughed, the kind of one where he would get compliments from fans and he’d get flustered. He covered his mouth with his hand.

“Long lashes, too. The kind of ones women would kill to have. Oh, and dimples for sure.”

Michael bit his lower lip, trying to suppress the massive grin threatening to break across his face. “And his style, I’d love for him to wear black loafers, and white socks. And someone who gets all shy when someone tells him how amazing he is.”

You tilted your head back to look at him, a full smile on your face. “Stop it! Stop it right now. You’re just… you’re doing this on purpose.”

Michael quickly covered his face with his hands. You moved to sit close beside him. “I’m just answering the question, Michael.” He only became even more flustered with the way you said his name.

He pulled his hands away. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were describing…”

“Who?” You asked, even though you knew well enough. “Who would fit that description, Michael?”

He stared at you for a second, holding his breath. The weight of his gaze made your heart thump viciously against your ribs. He looked like he wanted to say it. He wanted to ask, ‘are you talking about me?’

But he was Michael, and you were you. The friendship was too precious to risk with a single sentence.

He suddenly reached out and grabbed a pillow, jokingly hitting you with it. “You’re talking about E.T.”

“Hey!” You laughed, grabbing a nearby pillow to hit him back. “E.T. Doesn’t have any curls, Michael!”

You both laughed as the movie played in the distance completely forgotten. Yet Michael’s chest felt warm, he was unexpectedly happy and glad with your response.

[y56n11]

Req:Hi, I hope you're doing well;

Can I request a Micheal x quiet! reader, moreover a reader with a resting sad face? Like there on a date, either with Micheal showing her his animals—or out to eat at a diner l couldn't decide myself m'sorry) and he's in a somewhat internal panic about her not having a good time, despite her actually having a good time, and having to reassure him about it.

Thank you,

ThrillerEra!Michael Jackson x Reader

warnings: none

masterlist

A/N: I have to post requests like this because tumblr is being fussy 😑

You walked half a step behind Michael, your hands loosely clasped in front of the simple sundress you had chosen to wear. You were an incredibly quiet person, you’d usually prefer to spend your nights alone, kicking your feet on the bed while flipping through a book. Yet somehow something about Michael pulled at you, which is how you ended up here.

You knew you carried a trait that confused a lot of people, and that was having a sad resting face. Even when experiencing happiness, your natural features always seemed sad, like you were quietly upset about something. You couldn’t count the amount of times people had asked you, “what’s wrong?” Or told you to “cheer up.”

Michael had spent two weeks busy in his studio, and the second he found himself having a free afternoon, he didn’t hesitate to call you.

You had been thrilled. You were still thrilled. As you watch him walk ahead of you, your heart thumps with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

“Look over here, that’s where we're building a new place for the llamas,” Michael said, turning his head back to you. His large eyes scan your face, looking for a reaction.

You looked over to the place he was pointing at. You loved how much he cared for animals. You nodded slowly, gaze dragging back towards him. “It’s beautiful, Michael.”

Your voice came out quiet, you were lost in thought. Michael’s smile faltered, a sudden, panic sharp in his chest. He interpreted your silence as unhappiness. He lived in a world where he had to constantly entertain people, and seeing you look solemn was like a physical blow to his chest.

His mind overlapped with new thoughts, one after another: is she bored of me? Should I have chosen somewhere else to take her? Does she not like me?

He swallowed hard, his fingers moving nervously to tug at the collar of his shirt. “We can go look at the deer next,” he said quickly, his words tumbling frantically, desperate to make you feel more thrilled. “The deer are much better. They’re very gentle. They come up right to the fence.”

He reached out, his long fingers gently wrapping around your wrist to pull you along the path. His touch was warm, soothing, yet carried a telltale tremor of anxiety that you couldn’t quite understand. You quietly followed him, your shoes crunching against the gravel. You felt completely content, basking in the sun’s warmth, feeling the heat melt away the tension in your shoulders while being happily dragged away by Michael.

When you reached the deer enclosure, the setting sun was painting the sky in beautiful shades of pink and purple. While you were distracted Michael gently plucked a nearby plant.

“Here,” he murmured, he grabbed the back of your hand gently, pushing a clover into your open palm, his fingers lingering a second longer than necessary. You looked up, his pleading eyes catching yours. “Just hold your hand out really still. Like this.”

He demonstrated, extending his own hand over the wooden fence, three clovers resting against his palm. A young doe stepped towards the fence, eyes curious and wide. She easily nibbled the clover out of Michael’s hand, her wet nose brushing against his palm.

Instead of watching the doe, Michael’s eyes remained on you, watching the side of your face, tracking the movement of your eyelashes, his eyes momentarily dropping down to your lips. He was desperate for signs that showed that you were having a good time.

You stepped closer to the rail, repeating the movements Michael had demonstrated, extending your hand over the wooden fence. Your heart swelled as the doe shifted her attention towards you, snatching the clover out of your hand.

Michael pouted slightly. The silence, the way you sighed, the heavy look still settled onto your features which unraveled him completely. He felt an agonising wave of heartbreak washing over him.

“You want to go home, don’t you?” The question was so quiet, it took you by surprise. Why would you want to go home? Your brow furrowed.

Michael didn’t want to keep you here if you didn’t want to stay, he’d never force you to do something you wouldn’t want to do.

He did everything he could to prevent you from seeing how your mood affected him, he was failing of course.

“What?” You whispered, taking a step forward towards him. “Michael, no. Why would I want to go home?”

“You look so upset.” He confessed, his brow furrowing into an agonising line of worry. “You seem sad. You’ve barely said much, are you sure you’re okay?”

Your lips parted slightly, a sudden wave of hot, embarrassment etching its way through you. You started at him, you had been completely oblivious to the massive misunderstanding that had been brewing in his head.

“Michael…” you said quietly.

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted suddenly, his fingers nervously twitching. “I should’ve planned something better. I'm sorry, I really just wanted to see you. I’ve missed you. I don’t know what to do on dates-”

“Michael, stop.” And suddenly you were standing right in front of him, your palm sliding over the back of his hand, steadying the anxious tremor in his hand. His eyes fluttered with woe. He was vibrating with restless energy. Your heart felt suddenly full realising how much Michael truly cared about what you felt.

“I’m not sad, Michael.” You said timidly. “I’m having the most wonderful time. I love being here, with you.”

Michael blinked, his head tilting. Despite being confused, his features evidently flushed with a wave of relief at your words. “But you seemed so sad.”

You shook your head, “I just have a sad resting face. Even when I’m the happiest, my natural expression always makes me seem sad. I promise you, I love spending time with you.” You said softly.

Michael stared at you. His mouth slightly parted, his brown eyes tracing every single line of your features as if he was rereading a book and this time understanding the true meaning. All of the restlessness, and impatience slowly melting from him.

“A resting sad face?” Michael questioned, his voice taking a curious tilt.

“Yes.” You groaned, looking down at your feet, completely embarrassed. “It’s awful, people ask me what’s wrong at least three times a week. I didn’t think it would make you panic.”

“You didn’t make me panic,” Michael lied, though the flush of pink creeping up his neck and dusting his ears told a different story. His fingers catching your chin, taking a better look at your features. “Okay maybe I did panic a little, I thought you were getting fed up with me.”

“I could never be fed up with you, Michael.”

“Good.” Michael leaned down, kissing your cheekbone. “Now let me go show you the rest of my animals.” He beamed.

Taglist: @lotuspetalss @lemmeseethosetoes @darkgreengrl @swag313gurl @axrithtiy

[bowsnotes]

Finally finished my new story and it's 3.5k words long...

[glossiercheek]

michael calms you down after a hard day

warnings: anxious/stressed reader + an unnamed source of stress + short and sweet bc i feel a little bit okay :)

the thick weight of michael’s duvet rests over your cold torso. your eyes are still stinging and puffy from the tears you’ve shed from when michael calmed you down with his warmth around you. 

you’re still not a 100%, the drag of sadness still pooling deep in your abdomen, making you feel all tingly and restless. the stress is flowing through your veins like a constant reminder of what tomorrow’s going to bring. something you don’t want to face yet.

instead of focusing on your racing thoughts, you listen to how michael scrambles around in the kitchen downstairs. the gentle roaring of the tea kettle, the ticking of the clock. anything to calm you down, anything that distracts you from crying again. 

you just close your eyes and listen to the peaceful, domestic sounds of shared life with the love of your life. 

a couple of minutes later, the bedroom door opens with a light creak. michael enters the room with a soft look in his eyes, all careful like you’re made out of glass, carrying a steaming cup of tea in his hands. “you feel any better, honey girl?” 

tears almost run down your cheeks again upon hearing the pet name. because no matter what life throws at you, you’ll still have michael. to catch you when you fall, to pick you up when you can’t get up. 

“a little,” you reply, a little sullen, voice scratchy and raspy from crying. “head hurts.”

michael tilts his head in sympathy as he approaches you, sliding the teacup on the nightstand. “i’m so sorry, baby,” he whispers against your skin, so soft and sweet like cotton candy. he presses a chaste kiss to your temple. “i’ll kiss it better for you.” 

he continues by peppering a few more to your forehead in the hopes of alleviating the constant buzz in your mind. 

that night, you fall asleep with your head in the crook of michael’s neck, with his hands around you: one hand is planted on the crown of your head, fingertips lightly massaging your scalp, and the other rests with a heavy weight on your stomach— which you requested, to keep that anxious feeling there “at bay”. 

“i’ll always take care of you, sweet girl,” michael mumbles in the dark, watching how your breathing evens out. he pushes one final kiss to the back of your neck. “always and forever.”

a/n: am i the only one who needs to have a hand on their stomach when they feel anxious 😬

[bowsnotes]

Being a new mj fan is so scary because what if people think you're a fake just because you got to know Michael better because of the movie

[angelfacediary]

˚₊‧꒰ა ✦ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Just one day

Pairing: Michael x reader

Content: in which Michael's running a fever, yet refuses to stop practicing

A/n: I wrote this with otw Michael in mind, but it can be any era!

“Enough, Michael!” Your voice boomed over the music that blared from the speakers before your fingers moved towards the plug, abruptly cutting the music. The silence that fell amongst the room was almost deafening; the only thing that could be heard was the sound of his ragged breathing, as you watched his chest heave up and down in a rhythmic pattern, sucking up every little bit of air around him, sweat dripping down his forehead and neck, pooling at the collar of his T-shirt.

“But, baby—” 

Classic Michael. Using pet names to deflect as soon as he was cornered. 

“No, you're clearly not feeling well, yet you'd rather drop dead than admit it and give it a rest.” You crossed your arms, eyes narrowing at his sweaty form. The room felt hot and stuffy, small waves of air hitting the room from the open door, but it wasn't enough to cut through the humidity of the room. 

“C'mon, you know I have to practice… I have to be perfect,” his voice was uneven, still catching his breath from the intense dance session that happened moments before. His knees seemed wobbly as he tried his best to hold eye contact. His hand pressed against the wall to steady himself, against the weight of his fatigue and fever. He looked absolutely exhausted, eyes heavy and half-lidded, shoulders hanging low. 

“Mike, you've been in the spotlight for so long, performing for fans all over, I think you deserve to give yourself a break. I mean, look at you, you're on the verge of collapsing.” You looped your arm around his own sweaty arm. His skin was hot and flushed, like it could burn your own, but you didn't care. The only thing on your mind currently was keeping him upright. 

“Let's get you back to bed, okay? I'll get you a compress and some soup. How does that sound?” You glanced at his features, completely drained of all the energy he had left.

“But I”

“Michael”

"Fine, sounds good.”

©angelfacediary

Requests : open

[carmaloves]

hii could you do comforting mj when he’s super timid on his long flight that you joined him on, i saw something that said he was a super timid flyer so i thought this would be cute

𝑻𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝑴𝒚 𝑯𝒂𝒏𝒅

Michael Jackson x Reader

Synopsis: You comfort Michael on a particularly bumpy flight. Content/Warnings: Fluff, Est. Relationship, nervous Michael, comfort, fear of flying W.C. 0.8k

Masterlist

The jet shook slightly, causing Michael to immediately stiffen. His body tensed up as he looked around the aircraft nervously. His hand gripped the arm of his chair so hard his knuckles were white.

You sat beside him, watching him quietly for a moment. The poor boy looked like a startled kitten.

His knee bounced rapidly, eyes darting all over the place as if trying to find the source of the shaking.

You carefully reached across and took his hand in yours. The act immediately had his shoulders relaxing, leaving their hunched position.

He sat quietly, his breathing evening out the longer you held his hand. Light music played in the jet as it flew steady.

"You're doin' great, baby." You said lightly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

He squeezed your hand, taking a deep breath. He hated flying with a burning passion. He hated not being in control, he hated that all he could really do was sit and pray the thing kept going. Most of all he hated that there was virtually nothing he could do if the plane went down. It wasn't like a car where the impact was immediate. It was slow and painful, free falling through the air until the ground caught up. It made him sick to his stomach even thinking about it.

Michael loved having you there with him, you knew exactly how to calm down. You knew when he needed you to talk, when he wanted quiet, when he needed the familiar touch of your hand. You could soothe his racing mind with the smallest smile of your lips.

The plane shook violently, tossing the two of you slightly. The food that sat untouched on the table crashed onto the floor. Michael's heart fell into the pit of his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a small distressed grunt.

You sprung into action beside him, quickly reaching over him and grabbing the seat belt, clipping it across his waist. You then carefully pulled his ear to your chest so he could feel your heart beat. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, squeezing the air out of you. Your hands covered his ears, shielding him from the sound of buzzing and clattering.

You knew it was just a bit of turbulence, but you also knew Michael's brain had jumped to the worst possibility.

The plane quickly steadied, smoothing itself out. One of the flight attendants gave you an apologetic look. You just nodded at her, a signal to get the poor man in your arms some orange juice.

Michael kept his hold on you even as the jet evened out. His breathing was ragged. You gently ran your fingers through his hair, fingers scratching his head with a soft manner.

After 10 minutes like that you spoke softly, "Michael, everything is okay now. You're here, safe beside me. Nothin' bad is gonna happen to you. Take a deep breath for me, can you do that?"

He nodded lightly, eyes still squeezed shut. He took in a shaky breath, holding it slightly before letting it out. His tight grip loosened on you, eyes now resting shut. You pressed a kiss to his head.

"Good, now will you look at me with those beautiful eyes?" Your nose nudged his forehead slightly. He looked up at you, eyes still frantic. The sight nearly destroyed you. You cupped his face, "Oh, Mikey. It's okay. We're okay. You're okay, and I'm okay. Feel my heart, see how it's beating?" You placed his hand against your chest. He nodded, taking in another breath through his nose. You smiled and placed your hand on his. "Let's count together okay?"

You both sat quietly for a long time, counting out your heart beat. His shoulders began to drop, his own heart coming back down to its resting rate. He was quiet for a moment, before finally peeling his hand away from your chest. He leaned his head on your shoulder, "Thank you."

You smiled and kissed his head. "Of course, Mikey. You know you can always lean on me." Your hand intertwined with his.

He looked up at you and kissed you gently. As he pulled away you felt the jet touchdown. He looked surprised, "I didn't even notice we were descending."

You smiled proudly, "I'm just that good at keeping you calm."

He smiled and pulled you into a hug. "Yes you are. From now on, I'm never getting on a plane without you." He murmured into your hair.

You laughed gently, hugging him back. "Just means more time spent with you."

Taglist: @sebbysbaby @chloethefantastic @umafanficdoidaqualquer @delictezz @swag313gurl @melosdelusions @urthem00n @1lvie @artflooo @wildlaufey3 @jaiana-b-blog @lordswagprincess @mikeyspyt @khxna @plan3tch1ld @macncheesy16 @heyitsm4di @raefoxiegirl @smoothcriminalgf

A/N: If anyone wants to be added to the taglist, comment under this post. <3

[lovecherishly]

(sfw) photo booth.

taking pictures w/ michael | a/n: implied reader is wearing lipstick (or any lip product). mj is a giggling machine, idc what anyone says!! i lowk hate this but i need to put smthg out - wc: 806

You and Michael were walking through the amusement park, your pace a little sluggish after hours of non-stop exhilaration. The blur of rides, games, and all the snacks you'd shared had finally caught up with you, leaving you dragging your feet as the day wore on. Not that you minded. If anything, it was proof of how much fun you'd had. Your arm linked through his as the two of you continued strolling past the attractions.

Your gaze wandered around your surroundings aimlessly until something caught your attention near the entrance. Nestled against a building stood a small photo booth, surprisingly unoccupied despite how crowded everything else was. Your steps came to a halt almost immediately, lightly pulling Michael to a stop beside you.

Michael glanced over at you, his brows knitting together ever so slightly before he followed your line of sight. The moment he spotted the photo booth, a knowing smile crept onto his face.

"Mm?" he hummed quietly, the corners of his mouth curved into a knowing smile. He didn't even have to ask. Judging by the look on your face, he already had a pretty good idea of what you were thinking.

You turned to him, your expression making it obvious what you were about to ask.

"Mikey," you murmured, pointing toward it. "c'mon, we have to take photos."

He looked from you to the booth and back again, a quiet laugh escaping him.

"I had a feeling that's what you were gonna say."

"Please?" you asked, giving his arm a small tug.

Michael tilted his head, pretending to consider it. After a moment, he slipped a hand into his pocket and fished around until he found a coin. When he finally pulled it out, he raised it between the two of you

"Looks like we're in luck."

Before he could say another word, you'd already laced your fingers through his and started pulling him toward the booth. Your pace suddenly much quicker than it had been only moments before.

Michael couldn't help but laugh. "So much for being tired."

"I just want to get there before anyone else." You replied quickly, convincing only yourself.

When you reached there, he dropped the coin into the slot with a soft metallic clink. Almost instantly, the machine activated, its tiny overhead light flickering on. “After you.” He said, sliding the curtain aside with one hand and gestured toward the bench with the other.

You flashed him an appreciative smile as you looked back at him before stepping inside. "Thank you."

His only response was a quiet hum and a smile of his own as he followed in after you, letting the curtain fall shut behind him.

The booth was smaller than either of you expected. Your shoulders brushed the moment he sat down beside you, and you instinctively scooted even closer to make room.

The first warning buzz echoed through the booth, and both of you looked toward the camera.

For the first photo, you both settled into something easy. Michael wrapped an arm around you and gently pulled you closer, your cheek brushing his just as the camera flashed.

Another buzz came throughout the booth, signaling the second countdown.

Michael glanced at you with a playful look already forming, “Baby, make a silly face.”

You looked back at him for a split second before dramatically puffing out your cheeks and crossing your eyes, doing your absolute best to look ridiculous.

The sight immediately made him laugh, his own attempt at staying composed completely falling apart. He tried to imitate you and somehow managed to look even sillier, which only made you laugh harder.

The picture was taken right in the middle of your shared laughter, neither of you looking particularly camera ready, which somehow made it all the more perfect. Before either of you had much time to recover, another warning buzz filled the booth.

The second the camera was about to flash, you reached over and gently squished his cheeks between your hands, leaning in to press a quick kiss against his cheek at the same time. The shutter went off after you pulled back. When you looked at him again, you looked far too pleased with yourself, especially with the faint lipstick mark now visible on his cheek.

Michael turned slightly, catching sight of your expression, and immediately frowned in mock disbelief.

“Baby…” he drawled, stretching the word out as his eyes narrowed slightly.

“What?” you asked innocently, blinking up at him like you had no idea what he meant.

He just looked at you for another second before letting out a quiet, defeated laugh, shaking his head to himself. Despite the obvious lipstick mark still decorating his cheek, he made no move to wipe it away, simply leaving it exactly where it was.

Before either of you could say anything else, the final flash went off, cutting the moment short.

After the final flash, you and Michael stepped out of the booth and waited beside it for the photos to print.

The machine rattled and hummed for a few minutes before two photo strips slid from the slot. You grabbed both, but handed one of them to Michael so you both could look at them without having to make enough room for both to see in one hand.

The noise of the park faded into the background as you stood there side by side, studying the photos. Michael’s expression softened almost immediately as he looked through each frame, his thumb brushing lightly over the glossy paper.

Looking down the photos, Michael complimented you, “You look beautiful in all of these” as his thumb brushed against each frame.