Reader got her wisdom teeth taken out, Michael is taking care of her for the day
youâll play my song? đȘœ
no warnings just pure fluff!!
âč àŁȘ Ë wc: 0.5k
âMikeyyy.â Your face immediately lights up as you see him standing at the front door with his arms out for youâyou had just gotten your wisdom teeth out and refused to listen to anyone until you saw michael so, your best friend did just that. Dropping you off over at his. âSheâs all yours big guy, wouldnât shut up about you.â He smiles, âHey mama.â You fall into his arms, âmmmhhhh you smell soo good, you all prepared for me?â You attempt to kiss his lips but he dodges your mouth stuffed with bloody gauze.
âI would kiss those pretty lips, but youâve got that stuff in your mouth.â He leaves a peck on your cheek, and drags the both of you inside plopping you on his couch, he gets you comfortable placing things under your feet and a supporting neck pillow. âCan I get you anything else, baby?â You fall into deep thought, âMy mouth really hurtsââ you mumble. âI read that a kiss can fix it.â
âSo then you mustâve read that medicine can help you as well, right?â You scrunch your eyebrows feigning anger, âguess Iâve gotta find a new boyfriend.â You snort, turning towards the face of the couch, you mumble to yourself. âOuch.â Michael sarcastically scoffs, âgonna leave me âcause of dentist orders, mama?â
You ignore him, âfeels like thereâs a ghost talking in my ear or something.â You mumble, He snickers, âSo stubborn.â You mock him, âso stubborn blah blah blahââ you laugh to yourself, his love for you only continued to grow in that moment. âThatâs all you got, baby?â You nod.
âYesâIâd like a cheeseburger now.â He smiles, âyouâre impossible you know that? canât eat no cheeseburger yet but, I could get you some of that good ice cream you like.â You feel tears brim your eyes. âDid they rewire you, Michael?â You sigh, turning to face him now. âThey changed my boyfriend whilst I was sleeping.â
You cup his face, âThe real Michael if youâre still in thereââ He interrupts you bursting out laughing, âIâd move mountains for you baby and you know thatâbut, youâre on strict rules, and I want you to heal the right way.â You smile to him, âaww Michael!â You pull him into a lazy hug. âWhy didnât you just say that to begin with!â His eyebrows furrow in confusion, âI didââ
âCan you atleast play my song then?â You let out a huff, and he nods. âYour wish is my command.â
âYouâll play my song? My boyfriend is still in there after all!â You grip his cheeks, hard and firm. âgod look at that bambi face! I want to eat you!!â
âMama.â He snorts, Breaking hold of your firm grip to go play your song, that he just so happened to sing. âOhh Iâll be working from nine to fiveee to buy you things to keep you by my sidee.â You look at Michael, âtake your own advice.â you point a lazy finger at him.
âWho do you think I wrote the song for, hm?â He snorts. You smile to yourself. âDefinitely not me, whereâs my cheeseburger?â You glance at him, and he has the widest smile on his face.
âHey, but you know I love you, and I promise to get you a cheeseburger, and infinite kisses when youâre healed.â You attempt to fight the smile that wanted to break and spill onto your face, âpromise?â he kisses your cheek. âPromise.â
bro this was so ass, anyways enjoy this short blurb as I attempt to break free of my writers block đ
( đ.đđ€ ) â€ïž ~ thriller!michael đłackson đ„ childhoodbsf!popstar!reader. domestic fluff â€ïž in which the hayvenhurst interview is disrupted!
On this particular winter night, Joseph Jackson had ordered a compulsory family dinner, meaning that though his son had left Hayvenhurst nearly three years ago to move in with his wife immediately after their wedding, tonight was one of those times where he had to be back in his adolescent abode.
He was currently recording an unauthorised interview by the fountain outside the estate, a video heâd decided on randomly at the peak of the eveningâs boredom as he anxiously anticipated dinner. While he spoke whimsically into the air, you began to walk up to him, holding a hot mug of coffee, its purpose to help him stay energised for the night ahead.
Despite the darkness, it was only five-thirty in the afternoon, because it was December and Michael loved to sit out in the winter dusk, when the moon and the stars appeared. He would be performing a standalone concert here in California at nine o'clock, and as usual was behaving as if there wasn't any necessary preparation to be done. It was true that he was talented enough and naturally skilled enough to perform on both little sleep and little food, but you knew he'd had one too many sleepless nights recently, therefore caffeine was incredibly necessary.
He didn't notice you approach at first, because he was gazing up and off into the distanceâentirely away with the fairies, and in turn so ignorant to his very own Tinker Bell beside him.
â⊠But this is really magic to me âcause itâs like, um⊠Itâs like a painting. Itâs very artistic. Itâs magic! âȘâ So wonderful⊠âȘââ
You snapped your fingers, and a man behind the camera chuckled.
Now Michael turned to you immediately, and his eyes lit up. "Hi, pretty," he smiled, orbs glazed over with both exhaustion and adoration. To the camera, he spoke in reference to you. âSee! More magic! My beautiful princess.â
"Hi, baby," you grinned, running your hand over his cheek and kissing his lips twice. "I made you some coffee."
You presented the drink to him, but he only grimaced in disgust. "Minnie, y'know I don't like coffee."
"Micâ" you began, but he interrupted with persistence.
"I hate coffee."
"Michael," you said firmly, sitting down beside him by the fountain and taking no notice of the camera pointing directly at you both. "You got almost no sleep last nightâyou're gonna drink this."
"No, 'm not," he pressed on, like a stubborn child.
You set the mug down and rolled your eyes. "You need the energy for later. Don't argue with me."
"Yeah, I know, girl, but I don't like coffee."
"God, y'wanna tell me that again?! Didn't hear you the million other timesâŠ"
Now you were bickering like an old married couple, despite being in a mere two-and-a-half-year marriage at that stage. You argued like this a lot, because Michael could be so stubborn and frustrating, refusing to listen to you even when you knew what he needed. And it was then always the case that after each argument was over, you'd both go back to being sugary sweet as if nothing had even happened. The healthiest marriages were often that way, you figured.
"I got an idiot for a wife, folks," Michael joked to the camera, in one of those silly voices he always prank-called people with.
That only irritated you further, so you nudged his side and he nudged yours back, almost knocking over the coffee between you as he did. The camera continued to roll despite the interview's disruption, but you still weren't giving it a second thought. Having been so used to cameras throughout your adolescence, you often forgot they were there, even in private moments. Your whole life was an example of human surveillance.
"Michael, you nearly knocked it over!"
"Yeah, whateverâdoesn't matter 'cause 'm not drinkin' it anyway," he muttered, turning his head.
But you reached out and turned him back by his jaw. "I said don't argue with me, Jackson."
"You're the one arguin' with me, Mrs Jackson."
"No, I'm tellin' you somethin' constructiveâthat you need to drink this coffee now, and I'll also say that you later need to drink another coffee, before you go onstage."
"âs not my fault I couldn't sleep last night."
You took hold of his hand absentmindedly as you replied, your fingers playing with his slender ones. "I know, but now there's somethin' you can do about it. I put milk and enough sugar in it, y'know." Michael always had a sweet tooth, where his main dislike for coffee was that it was usually so bitter.
He looked down at your interlinked fingers and instinctively gave a small smile, before looking back to you again and sighing in frustration.
"Try a sip," you urged. "It's not too strong, honey, I promise."
He looked at the camera and scrunched his face up in playful irritation. "Sorry for the interlude, viewers."
You looked into the lens too and shook your head with a chuckle, pinching his cheek. "My husband is the idiot. Not me."
"That's mean, darlin'," Michael frowned in his hypocrisy, before picking up the drink and sniffing it cautiously.
You snuggled into his side, linking your arm into his free one and resting your head on his shoulder. He took his first slow sip, still grimacing as he did, but as the hot liquid went down his throat, he nodded slowly and comfortably.
"It's not that bad, actually," he murmured, shy at his previously vehement refusal.
"Exactly," you smiled, kissing his cheek. You ran your thumb over it slowly, getting lost in his pretty face as he sipped some more.
Then you turned to the camera, hand now rubbing over his knuckles instead. "Michael Jackson is one stubbornâ"
Your speech was cut off into giggles as Michael nudged your side again with the hand not cradling the coffee; and of course in doing so, he almost spilled said coffee over his pants. You exhaled a loud sigh, paired with a straight, lightheartedly unamused face.
"This is what I have to put up with," you continued playfully into the lens. "Our marriage is horrible. I don't know why Iâ"
He'd set the mug down now, in order to start a real playfight, chuckling as you squealed. He tried to pull you up onto his lap to settle you there, but you protested.
"No, I gotta go now, babyâ'm not stayin'," you said softly, once the fight had subsided.
Michael immediately frowned again, tugging you closer into him. "Huh, why?"
"I've got some stuff to take care of with my producer, but I'll see you tonight at the show." You leaned forward to kiss him, one hand moving to his soft cheek and poking it as you did; but then you noticed the froth above his upper lipâas a product of his drinkâand you chuckled at the adorable sight. Carefully, you wiped the foam away with your thumb, then smoothed over the curve of his lips before warming the flesh with your kiss.
Michael blushed profusely, eyes clamping shut in a shyness that only increased when you then cradled his jaw and said something that made his heart flutter.
"Make sure you drink the rest for me, beautiful."
He rolled his eyes at the intimate adjective youâd used for him, and made a joke to the camera to conceal the effects of it, because he believed that at least when in public it should be the man giving the woman such gentle affection and romantic speech, not the other way around.
"She's so corny," he sighed theatrically, and you rolled your eyes, before leaning in again.
"Shh. Bye, angelfaceâI'll see you later," you spoke airily, kissing him twice more.
"Oh bye, honey!" Michael replied in that sweet, whimsical tone of his, poking your cheek as you'd poked his a moment ago, before you stood up to leave.
"Remember to feed Brandon by six!" you called back, referring to your almost two year old son, who would be staying there for the night. "His yogurtâs in the fridge!"
The interview resumed, and he finished the coffee only because youâd really wanted him to, while unable to think of anything but you as he yapped to the camera. Throughout, he kept bringing up his 'beautiful, wonderful, magical wife'âmuch to the amusement of the guys recording, and to his own sister who joined him later on and teased his lovestruck soul. But Michael only ever laughed off the teasing commentary, so grateful that he had a lady to love profoundly and unashamedly for all time.
i feel like Michael is a close friend of mine who is resting from a long tour in his comfortable and cozy home with his lovely children and couldnât make time to call me.
is it a healthy way to deal with his passing? I donât know, but itâs less hurting than watching anything related to him and thinking âso sad he is goneâ
Content: jackson era! boyfriendmichael x reader! drabble!
đ âŻâŻâŻ It was late, and youâre spending the night calling with your boyfriend. You didnât mind, really. It was adorable how he was just making up whatever to keep the conversation going.
âSoo, did you eat dinner yet?â
âMikey you asked this already.â
âW-Wait! No. I meant what did you eat.!â
âEh. Spaghetti.â
âYuck.â
You rolled your eyes as you heard his âyuck.â You knew he wasnât a big fan of spaghetti, well not even a fan at all.
Michael was very resistant, not wanting to end the call. Even if you werenât there with him physically, he wanted to atleast know your there.
So in order to keep you on the phone longer, he would ask a ton of questions and try to be a conversation starter.
âI miss you.â He muttered, as he turned to lay on the side of the bed while holding the telephone against his ear.
You smiled and fidgeted with the cord. âI miss you too Mikey.â
âI hate that I have to talk to you through this telephone tonight when I rather be next to you.â
âMhm. Sorry. But last time when you tried climbing in my window, my dad got mad. Be glad that I can still call you.â
Michael shifted and laid on his back, as he let out a huge sigh. Then he started to giggle. You heard his giggle, and you mentally sigh.
âWhat if I sneak in again-â
âMikey! Nope! Are you trying to get yourself in-trouble?â
âMaybe, if itâs worth to be next to you.â You shook your head and bit back a laugh.
ââĄ Ë ÊŸÊŸ Michael Jackson was achingly desperate for your physical touch. He knew that youâre werenât a touchy person, but he canât help but seek out your warmth as much as a man possibly could.
While you were lazily flipping through the latest magazine, Michael sat beside you watching a movie. It had started entirely by accident. His hand rested beside you, palm facing up toward the ceiling. Unconsciously, you had reached out without looking, wanting something to fidget with.
It was a completely unconscious, hypnotic rhythm. Your fingers tracing the lines of his palm. It was a delicate, feather-light touch, and entirely addictive to Michael.
He was petrified to move a single muscle, afraid that youâd snap out of it and realise what you were doing.
Donât move, he kept internally repeating to himself. Do not move.
You were entirely immersed in the magazine, your eyes widening only the tiniest bit whenever you found something interesting. Michael found it all too endearing.
Michaelâs leg suddenly became restless. He pleaded with his own body. No. Donât ruin it. Please donât ruin it.
He let out a tiny, barely audible exhale. The feeling was so good it was almost agonising. You werenât doing it to comfort him, you werenât doing it to tease him. You were simply doing it because your body naturally sought out his, even unconsciously.
He wanted to stay in this position for the rest of his life. But obviously his traitorous body had to betray his mind. A stray curl tickled the tip of his nose. He tried to fight it. He really did.
His head gave a sudden, sharp jerk as he sneezed into his left shoulder. Your fingers froze. Michaelâs heart sank straight to his feet. No, no, no, no, please God, no.
You blinked as the daunting realisation of what you had been doing crossed your face.
âSorry. I didnât realise I was doing that.â you murmured, your voice slightly raspy from disuse.
Casually, you began to pull your hand away, intending to rest it on your thigh. Michael felt the warmth slipping out of his palm. The corners of his mouth slightly drooped, his sad, wide eyes watching you.
Before he could stop himself and before you could fully pull away, his fingers gently clasped around your wrist.
âWait,â Michael blurted out desperately. You blinked at him completely startled. âMichael? What are you doing?â
âI⊠I wasnât complaining,â he stammered. He tried his best to seem casual but it was plain to see that he was slightly nervous. âYou donât have to stop.â
âI didnât mean to annoy you, Iâm sorry.â
âYouwerenâtannoyingme!â Michael rushed out frantically, his eyes wide. He cleared his throat, trying to seem casual again. âIt wasnât annoying at all. It was⊠it was fine. It was good.â
âIt was good?â you repeated his words, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.
âYeah,â he muttered shyly. He looked at you through his dark eyelashes. âIt was nice. You can⊠you can keep doing it. If you want.â
You stared at him for three long seconds while he watched you with pleading eyes, patiently waiting for your next move like a puppy eyeing a treat. A soft, genuine laugh escaped you. The sound instantly melted Michaelâs features.
You didnât pull away. Instead, your fingers began the same rhythm they had earlier.
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