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⋆𓏲ּ𝄢 1995 || HIStory era || husband!michael.j x wife!reader ⋆𓏲ּ𝄢
this has been in my drafts for a while im not a big fan of it but ✌️
ִֶָ۶ৎ˖ִ ˚ synopsis: you and michael get asked that same question once again and michael cant help but reminisce to the steamy night before
۶ৎ˖ִ ˚ wc: 2.1k
ִֶָ۶ৎ˖ִ ˚ cw: invasive media questions, sub!michael, dry humping, p in v sex, cowgirl!pos, creampie, kissing, touching, teasing/flirting, mdni !! not exactly proofread
“Are you two intimate?”
You internally roll your eyes. Live audience questions were always asking about you and Michael’s sex life. No matter how many times Michael dodged the question, it always came back to the same invasive curiosity, dressed up as harmless interest.
You look over to him, catching the same awkward smile he always gave every time the topic was brought up. He can't even look at you, staring somewhere by his shoes, he hesitates. “Why do you guys always ask this?-“ he tries to laugh it off. You can't help the faint grin quirking up at the corner of your lip knowing everything he's not saying.
Because he cant.
Its never that simple.
Michael couldn’t tell the journalist and the thousands of fans watching live how, just the night before, he’d been lounging on his bed, half-watching whatever was on TV. More focused on waiting for you to come out of the bathroom, listening for the water to shut off, for your wet footsteps on the floor because he simply couldn't resist you.
Michael turned his head towards the sound of the doorknob, brown eyes locking onto you instantly. Enjoying the way that the towel was draped loosely, a single fold hiding nothing. The dip of your cleavage, the damp curve of your shoulders decorated with small beads of water. his gaze flicking up to betray him, taking slow, heated sweeps down and back up.
“Miss me?” you ask, breaking the quiet.
Of course he did, it was only yesterday when he was holding a show, which was “Great.” in his words as usually you’d be sitting there front row cheering him on from the second he took stage. Except this time, you’d had other plans.
Plans that involved missing the show altogether.
Michael understood you had other things to do outside of being the love of his life. And he knew you couldn’t always just drop everything for him 24/7.
He knew that. Really, he did.
But that didn’t change the fact your absence yesterday still bothered him.
“Always, my angel," he murmured as you padded over now dressed in nothing but a loose camisole and panties, slipping between his spread legs where he sat on the edge of the bed. His large hands slid to your hips, slightly tugging you some inches closer.
“Are you still upset about the show?” Your fingers absently traced his jaw; the other sliding down the column of his neck as you tried to read his expression.
“What? No.” he was always such a terrible liar.
“Right,” you answered not buying it at all. “Michael, baby, you do understand that i was busy right?”
‘Busy’ the word alone making Michael’s fingers tighten briefly. “Yes, I know that.” his eyes glinting with something suspiciously close to mischief. “But you’re not busy now..”
‘Nice try’ you thought.
“Irresponsible,” you snipped at the obvious flirt. "You’ve got that interview at eight." the reminder’ a weak attempt at scolding the man, when you were really tempting him to choose wrongly. And he always did.
You saw him wince at the mention of his schedule, “Yeah..”
"Besides," you teased, letting your hands slip from his face, "you’ll be too wrecked by the morning." A smirk tugged at your lips. "And you can’t skip another one. It’s a bad habit, Mikey."
Michael caught your wrists before you could pull away, guiding them to his shoulders, only for his grip to slide right back to your hips. With a gentle tug, he settled you into his lap, his fingers digging in with just enough pressure to make you stay, “I know, I know-” his eyes swept across the floor, restless. “I just can't help it when-” he trailed off, but a kiss stole his words, smothering whatever excuse he was going to feed you.
In all honesty you understood his complaints, with all the am radio rounds and back to back interviews, you and michael barely stole five minutes alone without either of you passing out the moment you hit the bedroom. So if he was a little needy tonight? You wouldn’t blame him. Because, hell.
You were too.
Michael melted into the kiss, and you followed suit; lips parted on a breath as his warm tongue slide against yours, slow and searching. The taste of him was intoxicating, the way he always kissed like you were going to disappear the second he pulled away.
Your palm smoothed over his nightshirt to rest just above his quickening heartbeat, that throbbed in sync with his now growing print pressing against you eagerly. Michael noticed his bodys reaction and broke from the kiss, you could feel the heat of his embarrassment radiating off of him. Too shamed to open his eyes to your smug expression he knew all too well. It was almost cute how, even after all these years together, some things just never changed.
“Already, michael?” God he loved the way you’d say his name like that. so tormenting. It was cruel. You adjusted your hips discreetly angling against his hard on flush against your clit.
A breathy moan escaped Michaels lips, gripping your hips trying to ground himself. Your focus drifted to his bambi eyes, catching the glint of desire he always so desperately tried to hide. “Can i?” he asked already reaching for your cami. Pathetic.
Your hum of consent is all the permission he needs—his hands already dragging the fabric up, peeling it over your head with deliberate slowness. The air hits your skin, cool against the heat of his gaze as it drops to your tits, perky and flushed, your nipples already peaking for him.
“God, you’re gorgeous.” he whispered more so to himself, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips. You cant help but enjoy the praise simpering slightly.
Michael drew near, trailing slow, feather-light kisses down the valley between your tits, his thumb reaching up to roll around your pert nipple.
This weakness made you crack, a low whine slipping past your lips as your fingers slid into his hair, guiding his mouth to your now swollen breasts and with him this close you could smell his cologne, the warm spice of his scent lingered in the air between you, and your hand instinctively curled a little tighter. youd only complimented it once, and from that day on it had become his signature.
Michaels tongue swirled around your aching peak, teasing before pulling it between his lips. The wet heat made you shudder as he released with a soft pop, leaving your peak glistening and sensitive. Not only that but you were practically dripping through your thin panties, you would only imagine the dark puddle you were leaving on his expensive, pants.
You rocked your hips along the hard ridge of his cock through his pants once more, his eyes squeezing shut again at the familiar feeling, completely and utterly weak for you just as he always was. “You’re getting my pants all wet.” he murmured, voice dripping with practiced charm—even if strained.
“‘S pretty.” Michael's large palms slid up your un seemingly trembling thighs, slow and reverent. One of his thumbs then brush against the delicate lace at the edge of your panties.
You suck in a shallow breath.
His eyes looked up to your face briefly, before his right thumb hooked under the fabric just below your core... and gently pulling it aside, the wet string between the cotton and flesh a lewd sight of just how desperate you were for him. Your eyes narrowed at his burning stare, “Pervert.”
Michael’s grin was all performance—that practiced, polite smile he wore for cameras and strangers.
“What? Never. I’m a gentleman.” the lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly as his slender fingers trailed through your slickness, warm, sticky from earlier arousal. His middle finger paused at your entrance, pressing just the lightest circle there, a teasing graze.
You bite your tongue not wanting to give him the pleasure of your reaction letting him continue his ministrations as you started to work on his waistband, because two could play that game. Your fingers grope for the zipper to his pants taking it down and pulling his boxers down with it, freeing his twitching shaft.
His leg tenses at the sudden exposure, a faint laugh escaping him as he pleads, “Baby, wait.”
“You want me to wait?” your hand was already wrapping around his manhood, giving him a stroke.
Michaels jaw clenched as he watched your thumb smear his pre, his hips jerked slightly into your palm. Pathetic. You’d only been holding his cock and he was already wrecked. A whimper escaped him, helpless against your slow paced ministrations.
“You ready, pretty?” you patronised sweetly, fully aware he was already struggling to keep it together.
“Don’t-” Michael’s protest died in his throat the second your thumb circled again, “Yes, god yes I’m ready.”
In one smooth motion you take his thick cock all the way inside your gummy walls to the hilt. Perfect. Fucking. Fit. You dont even feel like moving yet— just wanting to savour the feeling of having your cunt stuffed after weeks of nothing but constant press and overcrowded itineraries. Though after all they do say ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’.
“Feels good, angel” michael croaked revelling in the feeling of your snug walls.
You bit your lip as you began to move your hips, inch by inch, feeling him stretch you open until you could barely breathe. Your nails dug into his arms forming small crescent grooves, desperate for something to hold onto. Michael hissed at the sting, his hands gliding down to your ass, groping greedily at the fat, needing you just as much as you did him. “You like that, mikey?” you ground your hips down against his.
You can feel Michaels dick twitching inside your tight heat needy and oh so close. A thin sheen of sweat beaded along his forehead, his head lolling back now, nothing but broken little sounds and strained whines slipping past his lips.
“Just like that,doll” he managed, trying poorly to jerk his hips up in weak little thrusts to match the dangerous pace you’d set.
Your eyes dipped to the sticky mess of precum and arousal that glistened between you making wet obscene plaps as your skin connected each time. His face was so pretty like this; flushed, damp with sweat, mouth parted, all soft and spent beneath you. It pulled something greedy out of you.
You crashed your lips to his in a wet, sloppy kiss, swallowing the sweet little moan he let out for you. The sound went straight between your legs, and you clenched around him hard enough to make his whole body tremble beneath you.
Your chest pressed flush to his, your nipples dragging against the thin fabric of his night shirt every time your bodies met. The soft, damp cotton only made it worse the friction enough to make your breath hitch into his mouth as you kissed him, slow and sloppy, grinding down on him while he trembled beneath you.
“Angel, I-” Michael stuttered, voice ragged as his head tipped back again.
He wanted to cum so bad, you could feel it in the way his cock flexed inside you and how his brows stitched together tightly, but he was holding back for you. He always tried so hard not to ‘ruin it’ for you because it almost always got to his head whenever he came first makinh him feeling all guilty. It wasn’t easy, but he always tried his best to be good for his wife—even when you made it stupidly hard. Literally.
You answered with a soft hum and a roll of your hips. The beat between your legs got harder to ignore and Michael must have felt it near the base of him because one hand left the swell of your ass and slipped between you to find your needy little pearl. His thumb flicked over it fast and hard enough to make your breath catch as you started riding his cock with abandon, seeing stars you mewl, “Michael!”
your pussy spasmed around him, your stomach twisting in knots. You felt the warm liquid drooling from your insides and dripping down his base and balls making michael shiver, as you rode him with reckless abandon.
Orgasm hits as his palm slammed against your clit, the vice grip of your warm walls squeezing every last drop of hot cum out of him as he shoots deep inside your hungry cunt, his eyelashes damp with bliss. At least this time you came first right?
“Mr. Jackson?”
He blinks snapping upright, the bright studio lights rushing back into focus. “Are you okay?” the interviewer asks confusion written all over her face.
Michael clears his throat smiling sheepishly, heat blooming across his cheeks as he quickly straightened in his seat and smoothed a hand over his pants.
“Uh- yeah, I’m fine. Um, next question.”
© ᥲρρᥣᥱᥴhᥱᥱs𝟹 || 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘴. 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘴: 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘢𝘥, 𝘢03, 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘵𝘤. 𓂃۶ৎ
Blood on the dance floor - a love of a lifetime series.
Summary: Y/N goes into labour while Michael is on set for the BOTDF music video.
Authors note: I’ve realised I haven’t posted Prince’s birth lol. enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~
Los Angeles, February 1996
The set was still vibrating with music when everything changed.
“Cut! Reset for lighting—”
The director’s voice echoed across the studio, swallowed almost instantly by the bassline still thudding through the speakers. Michael stood under the hot wash of red and violet lights, dressed head-to-toe in that unmistakable red leather; sharp shoulders, sculpted lines, the costume that made him look almost unreal under camera glare. He was mid-performance mode, still half inside the character of the song, breathing slightly hard, eyes focused, intent.
Then, he saw his assistant answer his personal phone.
Michael frowned slightly, stepping back from the choreography mark. A production assistant moved to intercept it, but something in his expression stopped them. He took it.
The moment he took it from her, everything else in the room seemed to blur.
At first, he didn’t speak. Just listened.
Then his face changed, shocked and still.
The kind of stillness that spreads through someone when the ground under them disappears without warning.
“What do you mean..:” his voice broke slightly, then steadied itself again, forced calm. “No, no—tell me exactly what happened.”
A pause.
Then softer, almost whispering now:
“Y/N…”
Across the studio, someone called his name. Then again, but it was like he was already gone from the room.
When he finally hung up, he didn’t explain. Not properly, he just looked at the assistant closest to him.
“I need to go.”
“The shoot, Michael, we’re still—”
“I need to go, it’s the baby” he repeated, quieter but firmer.
And then he was moving.
No argument, no hesitation and an entourage scrambling . Just him slipping out of a world of cameras and choreography heading to his next greatest adventure.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The drive was a blur he didn’t remember in pieces, only in sensations.
The grip of the car seat under his hands, the way his heart refused to slow down. The unbearable repetition of one thought;
Not yet. Not like this. Not alone.
He sent a silent prayer “keep my girl safe and please don’t take her from me.”
Y/N hadn’t told him everything.
That part stung in a quiet way because he understood her too well. She always tried to protect him from panic, from disruption, from anything that might pull him away from work he felt responsible for. He could almost hear her voice in his head, soft and careful,
Finish the shoot first, then come home to me. I’m fine. Don’t worry.
But now she was in labour.
And she was in hospital.
And he was not there.
That was all that mattered.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Cedar Sinai was too bright.
Everything in it felt too clean for what was happening inside it, too white, too fluorescent, too indifferent to the fact that life was changing in one of its rooms.
Michael didn’t stop for security properly. People turned their heads as he passed, recognition blooming slowly, disbelief following right after, but he was already moving too fast to be anything but a man on a mission.
And then he saw it.
The labour ward corridor.
A nurse turned toward him, startled.
“Sir, you can’t”
“Y/N Jackson, I’m her husband,” he said immediately, breath tight, voice gentle but urgent. “Y/N. Please.”
Something in his face must have convinced her, because after a second she stepped aside.
And then he was there, at the door.
For one moment, he just stood still again.
Like his body needed time to accept that this was real.
Then he pushed it open.
~~~~~~~~~
The room was soft chaos, quiet but intense, the hum of machines, the focused calm of medical voices moving like rhythm around her.
And there she was.
Y/N.
Hair slightly damp, face flushed with effort and eyes half-lidded but searching.
And the moment she saw him, it was like the world tilted into something softer.
“What? baby?” she started, then immediately stopped, breath catching, because it hurt too much to laugh and cry at the same time. “Michael…”
He crossed the room in three steps, still in full red leather, still impossibly out of place in a room designed for something so raw and human.
And yet, he belonged there more than anything else.
He reached her bedside carefully, like she was something sacred he might break just by moving too fast.
“I’m here, girl” he said.
Her eyes flicked over him, incredulous, tear-bright.
“You’re—” she paused, breath shaking as another contraction passed through her. “What are you wearing?!.”
A weak, breathless laugh escaped him despite everything.
“I came as quickly as I could.”
“That’s not—” she squeezed his hand hard, grounding herself through pain and emotion at once. “That is so not fair, Michael. I am literally—” she gasped, then steadied, forehead dropping briefly, “—giving birth and you show up looking like that.”
He leaned closer instantly, brushing damp hair from her face.
“I didn’t choose the timing” he whispered.
Her grip tightened on him.
But she didn’t let go.
Neither did he.
~~~~~~~~~
The hours blurred after that in fragments of light and sound and held breath.
Michael never left her side.
He stayed close enough that she could always find him, his hand in hers, his voice low whenever she needed it, his presence a steady anchor through every wave of intensity. The world outside the room stopped existing entirely. The tour, the music video, the cameras, it all became irrelevant noise that didn’t matter anymore.
At one point, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead gently to hers.
“I’m so proud of you” he said quietly.
Her eyes fluttered open, tired but warm.
“You say that like I haven’t been crushing your hand for the last hour”
“I know” he whispered. “And you’re still… you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
That made her eyes fill again, softer this time.
“Stop, applehead” she breathed. “You’re going to make me cry and they said I shouldn’t waste energy on you.”
A faint laugh escaped him, shaky and overwhelmed.
“I don’t think you’re wasting energy on me?.”
“You don’t think? I’m literally birthing a you” she teased weakly.
“Girl” he gasped scandalised.
~~~~~~~~~~
And then everything shifted again.
A different kind of urgency filled the room, not panic, but focus sharpened into finality.
Michael felt Y/N squeeze his hand tighter than she had all night.
Her eyes locked onto his.
And he understood without words.
He leaned in immediately.
“I’m here” he repeated softly. “I’m right here, baby.”
The world narrowed to her breathing, his hand in hers, the steady guidance of the room around them, and the feeling that something impossibly large was arriving.
And then, a cry.
Small. Sharp. Real.
The kind of sound that splits the world into before and after.
Michael froze completely.
Y/N let out a broken, exhausted laugh through tears.
And then the nurse moved, and a second later, a tiny, living presence was placed into the world.
Into their world.
For a moment, Michael couldn’t breathe at all.
He just stared.
Like he didn’t trust that something so small could be real.
Then Y/N whispered, barely audible “Michael…”
He looked at her first, always her first.
Her eyes were wet, smiling, exhausted beyond words.
“It’s our son.”
Something in him broke open so completely it didn’t feel like breaking, it felt like expanding.
He reached out with trembling hands, as if afraid his touch might change everything too much.
And when he finally held him, the entire universe went quiet.
Michael’s head bowed instinctively, his forehead almost touching the baby’s, his voice barely there, “Hi…”
A pause.
Then softer, shaking with emotion he wasn’t even trying to hide anymore, “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Behind him, Y/N watched through tears unable to help herself, whispering,“You came in red leather for this…”
And Michael, still completely undone, gave the smallest, most helpless smile with a giggle.
“I told you I’d be here.”
And he had.
In every way that mattered.
~~~~~~~~
The room had finally softened into something like peace.
Their son lay against Y/N’s chest, wrapped in hospital blankets that still looked too large for him, his tiny breaths steadying into a rhythm that made the whole room feel quieter just by existing. Every so often he made a small sound, barely there, almost like a reminder that he was real and not something dreamt up in the middle of exhaustion and love.
Michael stayed close to the bed, still half suspended between disbelief and awe. The red leather was gone now, folded and left behind somewhere like a version of himself that didn’t belong in this moment anymore. What remained was just him, bare arms, open expression, eyes that hadn’t left Y/N or the baby for more than a second.
He reached out carefully, almost instinctively, letting his fingertip hover near their son’s tiny hand. The baby’s fingers curled weakly at the air, and Michael smiled like that alone meant something enormous.
Y/N watched him for a moment, then spoke softly.
“You’re staring.”
“I can’t help it” he replied immediately.
Her lips curved faintly, tired but warm.
A quiet settled between them again, comfortable now, no urgency left to chase.
Then Y/N shifted slightly, adjusting him closer, and turned her head toward him in a way that made Michael look up properly.
“I’ve been thinking” she said.
Michael’s expression softened at once. “About what?”
She glanced down at their son, then back at him.
“His name.”
“Prince” Michael said gently, as if still testing the reality of it.
She nodded. “Prince.”
A pause.
“But I don’t want it to just be that.”
Michael tilted his head slightly, listening fully now.
Y/N exhaled, steady but certain.
“I want his middle name to be Michael.”
The words landed softly, but they didn’t leave.
Michael didn’t respond straight away.
His face changed in the smallest way, like something inside him had gone still just to understand what he’d heard properly.
“Michael?” he repeated quietly.
She nodded. “Yes. Michael.”
Then, softer, more certain:
“Because he’s ours, but also because I want him to carry you with him.”
That did it.
Michael’s breath caught, small, quiet, like the air had shifted direction in his chest. His eyes dropped to Prince again, as if seeing him for the first time all over again, not just as a newborn, but as something that already held meaning far beyond the room.
“I don’t know if I deserve that, baby” he said honestly.
Y/N reached for his hand immediately, gripping it firmly despite her exhaustion.
“Don’t.” she said gently, but firmly. “Don’t start that.”
A faint, emotional laugh slipped out of him as he shook his head slightly.
He looked down at Prince again, overwhelmed in a way he couldn’t hide.
“He’s so small” Michael murmured.
“I know,” Y/N whispered. “That’s why it matters.”
Michael swallowed, then looked at her—really looked at her.
And something in his expression softened completely, unguarded and real.
“Prince Michael” he said quietly, testing it.
Y/N nodded once. “Prince Michael.”
A slow smile formed on his face then, disbelieving, almost shy.
“And in my family,” he added softly, still looking at the baby, “we already have the ‘Prince’ everywhere in the Jackson line.”
He exhaled gently.
“But this feels different.”
“How?” Y/N asked quietly.
Michael looked up at her, and there was no performance in it at all, just him.
“Because you didn’t choose it from my family,” he said softly. “You chose it because of us, our legacy and because for me, I’ll always remember you announcing him as the prince of pop at your last show”
A pause.
Then, almost smiling again, “And I like that he has it twice. From both sides. From my name… and from your heart.”
Y/N’s expression softened completely at that, emotion easing into something like warmth.
“You’re very poetic for a man who arrived in full red leather” she murmured.
A soft laugh escaped him.
“Girl, you’ve just had our son and you still giving me grief. I’ve had a very dramatic day.”
That made her smile, tired but real.
Prince stirred slightly and Michael immediately leaned closer again, instinct pulling him in.
“He’s really here” he whispered again.
Y/N nodded. “So are you.”
Michael didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he leaned in and pressed a slow, careful kiss to her lips, longer this time, like he needed her to feel it fully.
“I love you, thank you for our son” he whispered.
“I know” she replied softly. “You showed up in red leather, if that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”
A faint laugh broke through him again, but it faded into something quieter as he looked back at their son.
Prince let out a small sound, and Michael gently rested his hand over the blanket again, protective without even thinking.
“Prince Michael” he said again, softer now, almost like a prayer.
Y/N watched him for a moment, then smiled through her exhaustion.
“He’s going to know exactly who you are.”
Michael nodded slowly.
“And he’ll know exactly who you are too” he said.
Then, after a pause, still looking at the tiny life between them “And he’ll never have to wonder where he comes from or how wanted he is.”
The room stayed quiet after that.
But it didn’t feel empty.
It felt full.
Like everything they were, everything they’d been, had finally found a place to rest.
~~~~~~~~<<<
The hospital room had shifted again as night settled in.
The bright clinical edges of the day softened under dimmed lamps, everything quieter now, the machines, the footsteps in the corridor, even the distant city outside Cedar Sinai as if it had agreed, temporarily, to keep its distance.
Y/N had drifted in and out of sleep, exhausted in that deep, bone-heavy way only labour leaves behind. Prince was now swaddled and resting in Michael’s arms, still impossibly small, still making those faint, instinctive sounds that made Michael keep looking at his face like he needed to confirm the miracle hadn’t vanished.
And Michael… had not moved far.
He sat in the chair beside Y/N’s bed at first, then on the edge of it, then eventually, carefully on the mattress beside her when she tugged his hand weakly without even opening her eyes.
“Stay, applehead” she had murmured.
So he did.
Now he was there properly, one arm resting protectively over her hip, while the other held their son.
He wasn’t sleeping.
Not even close.
Every few minutes, he would lean forward slightly, just to check Prince was still breathing the way he should. Then he would look back at Y/N, as if she might disappear if he stopped paying attention for too long.
Y/N finally cracked one eye open.
“You’re doing it again” she whispered.
Michael blinked. “Doing what?”
“Watching us like we’re going to float away.”
A faint, guilty smile touched his face.
“I just—” he paused, softer now, “I don’t think my brain has caught up yet.”
Y/N shifted slightly, wincing a little before settling again. “Mine hasn’t either and I birthed him.”
That earned a quiet laugh from him small, tired, affectionate.
He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face.
“You did so well, my strong beautiful girl” he said, more serious now.
Her expression softened at that, but she didn’t answer straight away. Instead, she let her eyes drift toward the bassinet.
“He looks like you,” she murmured.
Michael shook his head immediately. “No. He looks like you.”
Y/N gave him a look.
“Both of us then.”
“Fine,” he countered gently.
That made her smile despite herself.
~~~~~~~
A quiet settled again, but it wasn’t empty it was full of everything that had just changed shape in their lives, something they had spend nearly decades waiting for.
After a moment, Y/N spoke again, softer.
“Are you going to sit there all night?”
Michael glanced at her, then back at Prince.
“Yes.”
“Michael.”
“Yes?”
“You’re not security.”
“I feel like I am now.”
That made her laugh quietly, then wince slightly again, which immediately made him lean closer.
“Careful baby”
“I’m fine,” she reassured him. “Just sore, not dying.”
He studied her for a second.
“You just had a baby” he said.
“Yes” she replied. “And I can still move.”
A pause.
Then Michael softened again, his thumb brushing her hand.
“I don’t want to miss anything” he admitted quietly.
That one landed differently.
Y/N’s expression changed, gentler now, understanding him underneath the worry.
“You won’t” she said softly.
He looked at her.
“How do you know?”
Because she didn’t hesitate.
“Because I’m not going anywhere” she said simply. “And neither is he.”
That seemed to settle something in him, even if only a little.
But then his gaze drifted again to their son’s face.
“He’s so small” Michael whispered, almost like it was still the only sentence that made sense.
Y/N followed his gaze.
“I know” she said.
“And we’ll take him home soon” he added.
“Yes.”
“And he’ll hear music” Michael continued, voice softer now, more distant in thought, “and see trees and light, animals and have a childhood… and he’ll know it’s normal.”
Y/N smiled faintly. “Normal for us, maybe.”
A small laugh escaped him.
Then his expression softened again, more emotional than before.
“Neverland” he said quietly.
Y/N looked at him. “What about it?”
Michael hesitated, then glanced between her and the baby.
“I want him to grow up there” he admitted.
There was no hesitation in Y/N’s response.
“I know, that’s our home. I know we talked about somewhere else, but I know we are staying” she said simply.
That surprised him slightly.
“You do?”
She nodded.
“You’ve always talked about it like it’s… a feeling more than a place,” she said. “Like it’s something you build for people you love.”
Michael swallowed, looking down at their son again.
“I want it to be safe” he said.
“It will be” Y/N replied.
A pause.
Then, softer “Because you’ll make it safe.”
That made him quiet again.
He leaned forward slightly, resting his forehead briefly against her hand just for a second, like he needed grounding.
When he pulled back, his eyes were a little brighter than before.
“I keep thinking about his name and how long we’ve waited for him” he said.
Y/N smiled faintly. “Our little Prince.”
He nodded.
“Our little Prince” he repeated, like it was still settling into him properly.
Then, quieter, “I hope he knows how wanted he was and is.”
Y/N looked at him for a long moment before answering.
“He will” she said gently. “Because you’ll tell him and we’ll show him.”
A silence followed warm, steady, no longer rushed by anything.
Prince made a small sound, shifting slightly in his sleep.
Michael immediately looked down again.
Of course he did.
Y/N watched him, then whispered:
“You’re not sleeping tonight, are you.”
He shook his head without looking away.
“No.”
A pause.
Then, softer “I think I’m just going to watch him for a while.”
Y/N’s voice turned fond.
“You’re going to do that forever.”
Michael finally looked back at her, and there was something quietly certain in his expression now.
“I hope so” he said.
And in the dim hospital light, with their son breathing softly between them, it didn’t feel like a beginning anymore.
It felt like forever.
~~~~~~~~~
Authors note: congrats to the worlds best parents.
would you be interested in the other births?
YES YES YES! I’ve been looking for thissss
Would you like to dance with me?
HIStoryera!Michael Jackson x fem!reader
a/n: not proofread, this is my first fan fic 🫣
Warnings: dirty dancing
WC: I dunno
Summery: you surprise michael with breakfast and he teaches you how to dance a bit.
all the artist me and my friend have beef with. I hate Diana Ross can you tell bc imma Michael fan.
hold up now
I just got an idea for a Michael x fem!reader so yall now of it the making of the BOTDF MV Debbie went into labor and Michael rushed to the hospital still in the outfit what if the was a fic?? Where the reader goes into labor and Michael rushes to get there and he’s in the outfit and it’s just fluff and comforting words Michael gives you, like idk but Has someone done that??? If so let me knowwwwww and if you want the idea to use jst tag me so I can read itttt tyyy (and give me credits or not idc ig)
If this is crap it’s bc it’s 1am for me rn
the way their fingers are touching, the way she's stretching out to touch him and he's allowing them to connect for that second—
the tension is crazy and they barely touch (not even hold) hands
I better see all of y’all still active in this fandom, in the two year interlude between Michael and pt 2
I do NOT want to go back to MJJcommunity forums to sleuth and find active fans or rely solely on wattpad or the dry ass tag on ao3 that was a waking nightmare
I willlll beeee
michael jackson vogue 2007・₊✧⋆⭒˚。⋆
some of these might not be vogue, sorry....lets just pretend
why?
why can’t people leave Michael alone? It’s been almost seventeen years since we lost our Applehead. Netflix released the false documentary. Fans are switching up. Michael is now being brought back up in court (by Wade and James I think) and now I’m desperately hoping that some light will shine and the world will see how just innocent Michael is. My parents, my friends (except one irl and all of my SOL on here) and my family believe he’s a monster when all he wanted to do was heal the world. It’s sad really. I constantly grief over him, I never knew the man. Never met him. But in my heart he was my friend even though he had no clue I existed. One day I hope that the injustice of Michael Jackson will be served on those who have caused him pain. He just wanted to heal the world and the world failed him. Oh Michael you might be passed but in the lives on your soldiers of love your alive.
MIKE CHILLLLLL I’M EASYYYYY 😭😭😭
Computa, show me more mafia boss!Michael Jackson fics
oscar winning tears
⋆ FEATURING: michael jackson x fiancée!reader
SYNOPSIS: a big argument between you and michael broke out mere days after he asked you to marry him. you didn’t think it was that serious, which is why you didn’t break off the engagement but michael being the petty man he is, refused to speak or see you for weeks. which leads to you attending the mtv 1995 awards, just to see him.
WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI — fem!reader, secret relationship, angst angst angstttttt, hurt/comfort, makeup sex, public sex, petty!michael, toxic ish!michael, reader lowkey folds but who wouldn’t?, janet being the queen that she is, happy ending, no use of y/n
WC: 6.6k (guys i think i cooked a bit too much)
AN: this is based off of when michael ghosted lisa marie for six weeks and the only way she could see him was when he was performing. but also keep in mind that this is a work of fiction and the events in this fic shouldn’t be taken as an accurate piece of media! for reference to the title, i was listening to “oscar winning tears” and that’s how i got inspired for this fic lol.
michael jackson masterlist ༻ navi
LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO 🇧🇷🇧🇷🇧🇷🇧🇷🇧🇷
hot girl summer
☙ FEATURING: michael jackson x fem!reader
☙ SYNOPSIS: you’re janet’s best friend so you got invited to stay the whole summer with her at her home in hayvenhurst. you’ve always been attracted to her older brother, pff who wouldn’t? but little do you know he sort of has a crush on you too. so now you have to figure out how you’re going to survive six long weeks while being under the same roof as him.
⌫ WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI — post!thriller michael, age gap (reader is 21 & michael is 26), janet knows about readers crush and teases her about it, michael is such a gentleman, j*e doesn’t exist cause i said so, michael’s brothers being teases, also randy tries to flirt with reader a lot, jealous!michael, oblivious!reader, horny!reader, first kiss, virginity loss, sub!michael if you squint really hard, oral (m!receiving), riding, unprotected p in v, creampie (oops), no use of y/n, happy ending
☙ WORD COUNT: 6.0k words
✿ NOTES: guys i got a bit lazy at the end as i always do lol. but i hope you still enjoy it, this is also one of my personal favs mwah!
michael jackson masterlist ༻ navi
SUMMER 1985
you hum to the soft music playing in your car, feeling the warmth of a summer afternoon through your car window as you start to get closer to the hayvenhurst gates.
you cannot believe that you're staying the whole summer at hayvenhurst.
you've been friends with janet jackson since you both met at school in indiana but you lost contact over the years when your family had to move away. it was only recently that you both reconnected and have been inseparable ever since.
that's why she invited you over to her beautiful family home, to spend the summer and you are more than excited. not only are you going to be having the best summer of your life with your best friend but you'll also get to meet him.
yes, michael jackson.
don't stop 'til you get enough michael jackson
michael jackson x f!reader ────୨ৎ──── ♡ wc: 3k
synopsis: after losing his virginity, michael is basically hard 24/7.
cw: smut, mentions of oral (m!receiving), mentions of virginity loss, dry humping, p in v, creampie (sorry this is like a baseline for all my fics atp), handjob, wet dreams, praise, dirty talk, whiny!michael (my fav), mutual obsession..? yo gang i stink at tagging stuff
requested !! (ty anon ily)
based off either otw/thriller!michael
michael’s face was buried so deeply in the crook of your neck that his desperate whines were muffled directly against your skin.
he was shoved deep inside you, his chest pressing into yours as he frantically thrusted, his hips jerking with a clumsy urgency that overrode his usual gentleness.
he couldn't stop the high whimpers escaping him every single time his hips slammed flush against yours, his hands clutching at the sheets on either side of your head because he was absolutely losing his mind.
should you say that you didn’t expect this?
no, you definitely did.
✧˙°. — DREAMER II
𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝗲𝗿 𝗶.
୨୧ otw!michael x reader | m. list
𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌, 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖺 𝗁𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾.
𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍. 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗆𝗎𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝗀𝖿!!, 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗅.
ᝰ 𝗐𝖼: 𝟣.𝟢𝗄
the date was supposed to be enough.
one night, one dinner, one chance to get whatever had been simmering between the two of you out of your systems. that had been the plan.
the problem was neither of you seemed particularly interested in sticking to it.
three days later, michael was standing on your doorstep holding a couple of dvds and looking entirely too pleased with himself.
you opened the door after hearing a knock.
“you know normal people text first.”
“i did.”
you checked your phone. 'three minutes ago'.
you looked up. “michael.”
he grinned. “you answered the door.”
“because i thought something was wrong.”
“something is wrong.”
your eyes widened. “what?”
he held up one of the dvds. “i bought these and had nobody to watch them with.”
you stared at him, he stared back — then you laughed.
· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·
it became a pattern after that. you pratically hung out everyday.
not dates, at least not officially. just michael finding reasons to be around.
he’d stop by with food, you’d call him when you were bored, he’d send you pictures of random things throughout the day because, according to him, they reminded him of you.
sometimes it would be something sweet.
somehow, though, every conversation lasted longer than it should have, every goodbye turned into another twenty minutes, every plan to spend an hour together became four.
and neither of you ever seemed eager for it to be over.
· · ─ ·ʚ 𝟧 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾 ɞ· ─ · ·
“you know,” michael began.
you were sitting on his couch, legs laying across his lap while some movie played in the background that neither of you had paid attention to in nearly half an hour.
“what?”
“i think janet tricked us.”
you laughed. “into what?”
“this.” he gestured between the two of you. “because there’s no way she didn’t know exactly what she was doing.”
“that’s actually very possible.”
“terrifying.”
“extremely.” michael nodded solemnly. “she’s powerful.”
“she really is.”
for a moment, neither of you said anything. silence that only existed between people who genuinely enjoyed being around each other. it was comfortable,
then michael looked over at you, really looked.
and suddenly you couldn’t remember what you’d been saying. or breathing. or anything, really.
his expression softened. “can i tell you something?”
your stomach flipped. “depends,” he smiled.
“i knew that date was gonna be a problem.”
“why?”
“because i liked you before it.”
your heart stuttered, but michael continued before you could respond.
“and then you showed up looking like that.” you immediately covered your face. “oh my gosh.”
he laughed.
“and then you were funny.”
“stop.”
“and then you were smart.”
“michael.” now, you were blushing heavily.
“and then i had dinner with you and realized i was completely screwed. you were smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. “you’re ridiculous.”
“i know.”
his voice was quieter now, “but i’m serious.” the teasing faded from his expression.
“i don’t just want the date,
i want this,” his hand brushed yours, squeezing your hand gently. “all of it.”
all you could focus on was him, and the way he was looking at you like he’d already made up his mind. like there had never been anyone else.
“good,” you finally whispered, michael smiling.
“good?” you squeezed his hand back. “because i want all of it too.”
and for the first time all night, michael looked completely speechless. which, in all honesty, might’ve been your favorite part.
it wasn’t planned, at least, not the way he wanted it to be. he’d spent days trying to come up with something perfect. something memorable, something that didn’t sound stupid.
unfortunately for him, the moment kept arriving and he kept chickening out.
so instead, here you were, on a completely ordinary night. you 2 just doing the things you do together all the time.
michael then rubbed the back of his neck, which was never a good sign. seeing him nervous immediately got your attention.
“michael.”
he laughed softly. mostly at himself. “i had this whole plan.”
“uh-oh.”
“yeah.”
“should i be worried?”
“probably.”
you smiled. “now i’m definitely worried.”
for a moment, he just looked at you.
“i like this,” he repeated, looking down. “us.” michael then took a breath,
“i know we’re already basically doing everything people in relationships do.”
you laughed. “that’s true.”
“like, honestly, i don’t even know what would change.”
“also true.” he smiled, but there was still nervousness underneath it. still uncertainty. you knew this mattered to him. a lot.
“but…”
he paused, now lifting his head to look at you again, then shook his head. “see? i had a better way to say this.”
you couldn’t help smiling. “you’re doing fine.”
“am i?”
“yeah.”
“i’m sweating.”
“you’re not.”
“emotionally, i am. you’re just so pretty.” you laughed, blushing some.
“i know i want you around..
i know i want the movie nights, the twister nights and random phone calls,
i know you’re the first person i want to tell everything to.” michael smiled softly.
“so i guess what i’m trying to ask is…”
for the first time all evening, he looked genuinely nervous.
“will you do me the honor of being your boyfriend?”
despite the dates, despite the hand-holding, and despite the way he’d been looking at you for weeks.. hearing him actually say it felt different, making a smile break across your face before you could stop it.
“you know…” you began.
michael groaned immediately. “don’t do that.”
“do what?”
“the dramatic pause.” you laughed.
“i’m thinking.”
“think faster.”
“michael.” you stated, already knowing what your answer was.
“please.”
you shook your head, smiling,
“yes.”
he blinked. “yeah?”
“yes. a million times yes
“really?”
you laughed. “really.”
the smile that appeared on his face was immediate, like he couldn’t quite believe he’d gotten the answer he’d wanted.
“that’s crazy.”
you stared. “what is?”
“you’re my girlfriend.”
you laughed.
“i am.”
he looked ridiculously happy. “wow.”
“you’re being weird.”
“i know.”
“very weird.”
“i don’t care. you’re mines, now." he grabbed your hips, lifting you to his lap as you squealed, placing popcorn kisses all over your face, causing you to giggle.
@sturnioloslut101 ᨳଓ @vigilantlysassypact ᨳଓ @muddyloserlia ᨳଓ @exerlover ᨳଓ @shutupzela ᨳଓ @luhvlia