pre-invincible era! michael jackson x shy wife! female reader
summary. 1999. you and michael have been married for over 7 years now, yet youβhim, as well, still get butterflies around each other like you were still those two young lovesick people who fell in love all the way back in the 80s.
tags. romance, fluff, suggestive (no explicit nsfw). michael is 41, you are somewhere in your mid 30s. toddler prince & baby paris being the most mischievous and cutest kids! established relationship since mid-late 80s, married in 1992. michael loves teasing you.
βββββββ
Seven long and beautiful years.
Married since 1992.
Nearly 2 decades together if anyone counted from the first time the two impossibly shy, young adults met in the eighties. Back then, people used to laugh because conversations between the two of you would take an eternity of awkward silences, sheepish smiles, and a bunch of flustered glancing at each other.
Neither of you wanted to speak first, neither of you wanted to make the other uncomfortableβor even redder than you both were already are.
Dates consisted of long walks where whenever your shoulders, and your hands brushed together...a sudden jolt made you both shiver and make your cheeks warm. And entire evenings were spent together, making deep talks about everything under the sunβyet when your eyes met, you both would go into a lull of silence, smiles on your bashful faces.
Michael had once been every bit as timid as you, maybe even worse.
But time had changed him. Fatherhood had changed himβand God, did he look magnificent with the glow it brought. It was like he was destined to be a father.
He'd became even gentler somehow. Calmer, certain. He walked with purpose, and confidence now, willing to do anything and lay down everything for his family, his world.
He became more self-assured.
He no longer questioned whether or not he deserved happiness.
Because every morning, happiness slept beside him.
Although for you, somehow, seven years of marriage hadn't changed one very important thing about you.
You were still impossibly, incredibly, and adorably shy.
The nervous smiles, the way you would tuck your face into Michael's shoulder whenever too people would look at you, and the way you would immediately pull away and look off into another direction when it was Michael that stared at you.
You never really grew out of that, not really. And Michael just thought it was the cutest thing ever.
βββββββ
"Mrs. Jackson?" The interior designer called out as they walked into the living room.
"What color were you thinking for Ms. Paris and Mr. Prince's playroom?" They asked with a polite smile.
You looked up from where you sat next to Michael on the couch. Suddenly, every worker in the room looked at you. The decorators, contractors, assistants. Your cheeks immediately warmed.
You instinctively tried to hide your face into Michael's shoulder but he evaded you and sat up straight. You looked at him with a slightly horrified expression.
Michael smiled without even looking away from the papers in his lap. "Baby?" His voice was gentle. "What were you telling me this morning?"
You stared at him, eyes wide. "The..."
You swallowed. "The pale...yellow..."
"A little louder." He said softly. You almost melted from him saying that, biting your lower lip. He glanced at you, raising his eyebrow. "They can't hear you, mama..." he smiled, amused.
It wasn't fair, he was making you flustered! He knew damn well what he was doing to youβthe effect he still had on you after all these years.
"Pale...yellow..." You spoke up a little louder than a mouse.
"I can't hear you, baby." He leaned in closer, grinning handsomely.
You huffed, what a tease! "Michael..."
He bit the inside of his cheek, putting a hand to the small of your back, encouraging you. "You can do it, beautiful."
You just closed your eyes shut, not bearing to look at Michael's expression in that moment. You can already see the teasing smirk on his annoyingly hot face.
"Pale yellow! I'd like...pale yellow." You spoke up. Michael smiled proudly.
The workers all hummed, enthusiastic about your choice. "Perfect! Great idea, Mrs. Jackson." They all the dispersed to get back to working on the new playroom.
You then gently smacked Michael's arm, your lips pressed together. He dramatically held his arm. "Owww...."
"Don't you oww me...you knew they heard me..." You breathed out, embarrassed.
"I did." He admitted easily.
Your eyes went wide, you covered your face and sank into the couch. "You embarrassed me..."
Michael laughed. "I helped you, baby."
"Helped? Michael youβyouβ"
"I did what?" He leaned in closer to you, his face mere inches from yours. His gaze flickering down to your lips as he smiled slowly. Your mouth was slightly agape, you could practically explode right then and there. "Hm?" He hummed with that shit-eating, handsome grin.
This really wasn't fair!
You tucked your face into his shoulder, making him laugh brightly.
"I hate you..." You said, muffled.
He kissed the top of your head. "I love you too, honey."
You groaned at that, making him laugh even more.
βββββββ
One evening, the house was unusually quiet.
Prince had finally fallen asleep after playing and operating through out the day in a different time frame. Paris was tucked beneath her favorite blanket, hugging her favorite stuffed toy. Only the sound of warm water drifted from upstairs.
Michael sat by the piano, trying again and again. Another melody, another unfinished song that he wasn't satisfied in. Nothing sounded right for his new album Invincible. Until...
"Da de-de-da
Da de-de-da, da de-de-da
Da de-de-da, da-da..."
His fingers froze on the ivory keys, he peeked his head up at the stairs and headed towards the sound quietly.
"Da de -de -da, da de -de-da
Da de-de-da de-de-da..."
You were humming. Like you always did.
You had always insisted to him that you weren't good at singing or that your voice wasn't good whenever he would ask you to sing for him throughout the yearsβbut you were never really a good liar.
Whenever you were happy, at peace, and calmβyou'd hum something that was composed with your heart. He noticed that the day you first met.
You hummed when he held hands with you, shyly looking away from each other on your first date.
You hummed when Michael laid his head on your lap, helping him doze off.
You hummed when you first cradled your babies: Prince & Paris in your arms, with the most radiant smile on your face.
His heart warmed. You were just so cute, so endearing.
He quietly reached inside of his pocket, producing his tiny handheld recorder he'd keep on his person alwaysβyou'll never know when inspiration channels back to you!
He then pressed record.
"Da de-de de-da, lda de-da-dum
Da de -de -de -da, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum..."
His smile was so wide, it hurt his cheeks. He could already imagine your face when you realize you were gonna be in his next song.
He can always apologize later.
βββββββ
Over the next few weeks, he collected that familiar melody you always hummed.
Every take was perfect, but really at this pointβhe just collected your humming because he was kinda obsessed with hearing it all the time. He was obsessed with you in general, really.
Sometimes, he didn't even record. He'd just watch you.
You stood barefoot in the kitchen one morning whilst he washed the dishes. You yawned. You wore one of his shirts, hanging off your shoulder. You balanced Prince easily on your hip, bouncing him in one arm as you fed Paris in her high chair with your other hand.
You had baby food on your cheek. Some kind of marker or paint staining the sleeve of his shirt. You thought you looked awful, but so be it.
But Michael...lord, he could barely breathe. He bit his lip, his scrubbing slowing down.
God...you are so beautiful. No.
Beautiful didn't cut it.
You were...everything.
He watched the way you kissed Prince's forehead gently, brushing his blonde hair.
He watched the way you laughed when Paris accidentally spilled her milk, cleaning it up with a smile.
He watched the way you weren't hesitant at all when it came to your family.
His stomach fluttered. Like he was in his twenties again, seeing you for the first time.
Butterflies.
He stopped scrubbing the plate, biting his lower lip even more as he eyed you wipe the back of your neck with a tissue, sweat dripping down your neck.
His thoughts wandered somewhere very dangerous at that moment...dear God, was he ovulating??
He let out a quiet whistle when he saw you fan yourself by flapping the hem of his shirt, showing the slightest bit of your stomach.
He swear he could've just fell to his knees at that moment.
Thank you Lord. He prayed for times like this.
You just had no idea...absolutely no idea what you did to him.
Even looking like this. Especially, looking like this.
He wished that everyone else in the house could just go for a moment so that he could kiss you, touch you...taste youβ
Suddenly, the plate slipped out of his hands, almost breaking and making a loud sound in the sink. You jumped as Prince and Paris continued playing, not caring about the loud sound at all since they were also making loud sounds.
"Michael? Are you okay?" You immediately asked, turning around with concern etched on your beautiful face.
Michael couldn't answer you, he just kept staring at you with a flush appearing on his high cheekbones. You figured out that he was also feeling hot from the heat.
"It's so hot today, let's just sit down and rest for a bit." You said softly with a small smile on your beautiful face.
He just kept staring at youβnaturally making you nervous. "Is there...something on my face...??"
He smiled. "Yeah."
You hurriedly wiped your cheek, "Did I get it?"
"No." He muttered. You rubbed harder. "Did I get it now?"
He shook his head, you frowned. He then reached to your face, brushing his thumb against the upper part of your cheek. "There, baby..."
Your breath caught, you gulped, sweat dripping down your neck. "Thank you..."
"'so pretty.." He mumbled, pupils dilated as he then placed lingering kisses to your forehead, to your temples, to your cheek, down to your neck...
"Michael, the kidsβ" You said, your breath caught in your chest as your face was incredibly warm.
As if on cue, Prince suddenly spilled his cereal on the floor, making Michael dip his head dramatically and exhale. He then started cleaning up after Prince.
You watched him clean, the flush still warm at the back of your neck.
βββββββ
After that very hot afternoon, he found himself writing on random papers that evening. Words spilled out of him effortlessly.
All you got to do is walk away and pass me by
Don't acknowledge my smile...
He smiled to himself, thinking about you.
When I try to say hello to you, yeah
And all you gotta do is not answer my call...
It was all about you. Every lyric somehow circled back to you.
When I'm tryna get through
Keep me wonderin' why when all I can do is sigh...
Every thought.
I just wanna touch you.
Every desire. Everything. All about you. He was crazy about you.
The woman who still gets awkward and adorable when he complimented her even after almost 2 decades together.
The woman who still hid behind him, tucking her face into his shoulder.
The woman who unknowingly riles him up, driving him absolutely insane.
He dropped his pen, burying his face into his hands, feeling flustered himself. God...this was too much. He smiled, laughing to himself. He could just die from happiness.
βββββββ
Months later, he had finally finished making the song. He made sure to hide it from you as a surprise, but he just couldn't wait any longer. He wanted to see your reaction to it ASAP.
One late afternoon, the sunlight painted the Neverland gardens gold and orange.
Prince let out a laugh as he chased a squirrel around the lawn, Paris was sat next to the gardens, curiously watching the workers as they carefully planted the new flowers for the next season, and carefully trimming the hedges.
The fountains sparkled beneath the California sun, the wind growing colder. Michael watched his children for awhile, a smile on his face.
He then walked up next to you, taking your hand in his. You visibly became shy at thatβmaking him grin.
"Come with me." He urged.
"What? Where?"
"It's a surprise, baby."
You thought for a moment, "I should stay withβ"
He chuckled. "The workers are watching them. Just five minutes, please?"
He tugged you gently, you smiled, your heart warming at his request and went along with him. You had that cute curious look on your face, making his heart warm as well.
βββββββ
He closed the door behind you, you both then sat in his personal studio in Neverland. He dimmed the lights, turned up the volume of the speakers, and pressed play. Soft strings floated all around your ears pleasantly.
Then...
Butterflies Michael whispered out in the start.
Da de-de-da
Da de-de-da, da de-de-da
Da de-de-da, da-da...
Your eyes widened at hearing a familiar hum. Not just any other hum. It was yours.
"Michael."
He just smiled, not answering you. Then his voice entered.
Smooth, gentle, longing, and sensual. It made your spine shiver delightfully. Then you started focusing on the lyrics at the chorus...
I just wanna touch and kiss
And I wish that I could be with you tonight (You give me)
'Cause you give me butterflies
Inside, inside and I
Your hands flew to your face in shock. As the lyrics unfolded, you slowly realized that every line, every word, every yearning confession, and every romantic desire...they were all pointed towards you.
"...Michael..." You breathed out, still covering your face.
He laughed, covering his grin with his fingers. "What?"
You refused to meet his gaze. "...It's about me."
"Mhm." He hummed lowly, tapping his foot along to the tempo. He grinned widely, biting his bottom lip. "Clever girl."
You felt yourself melt when he said that, you frantically fanned yourself with your hands.
"YouβYou...wrote these lyrics?"
He nodded casually, his eyes fixated on you, licking his lips.
"You...You thinkβwishβabout kissing me this much??" You asked, an incredibly flustered expression on your face.
He shook his head with a serious look. "Nope. More."
Your eyes were impossibly big as you heard that he wanted to taste you! "Michael Joseph Jackson!" You yelped out.
"Okay, that one might be too dirty, I'll cut that one out...but y'know what I meant." He said with a breathy chuckle.
"I wish I didn't." You murmured, burying your lower face in the thick collar of your turtleneck.
"You liked it, didn't you?" He teased. You glanced at him and almost combusted.
"I did not say that!" You defended yourself weakly.
"You aren't denying it though..." He said in a sing-song manner, looking at you with that look in his face.
You stared at him. This was just so unfair!
You buried your face in your hands once more. "Oh my goodness..."
He then stood up from where he sat, leaning down at you and grabbing your chin gently, lifting your face until your eyes met. "So..." He whispered.
"Did the song work?"
"What...what do you mean?"
He patted your stomach affectionately, smiling at you with those pretty eyes of his. "You've got butterflies huh?"
You scoffed, looking away. "I do not..."
"You do." He leaned in even closer.
"I don't..." You murmured.
"You can't even look at me, mama..." He said gently in your ear, making you weak in the knees.
"Stop..." You could only protest weakly, not even trying to push or pull yourself away from him. You even had a dreamy smile on your face despite your words.
He grinned at that. "Nah." He stated simply.
"You're impossible, Mike..." You breathed out, chewing on your bottom lip as you looked at him.
"Yet you married me." He chuckled out. You rolled your eyes at that.
"I've been married to the shyest person in the universe for seven years..." He teased you, making you gasp and scoff playfully.
"Yet somehow...she still makes me shy too." He confessed, your eyes softened.
"You?"
"Yeah...everyday, baby. You drive me wild." He chuckled, a bashful smile on his face.
The confession had melted some of your embarrassment away. You then laughed, at least you weren't alone in your suffering. You reached to his face, brushing a loose dark strand away from his face.
"I love you, Michael." You said so tenderly, it made him almost weak in the knees too.
"I love you more." He breathed out, a bit desperate and so entranced by you.
He kissed youβslowly, passionately, lingering long enough for you both to smile into it. When you both pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours with a playful glint in his dark, bambi-like eyes.
βYou knowβ¦β He started.
βHm?β
βI wrote all those lyrics because every time I see you, I still end up wondering if I can steal a little more of your attentionβ¦ another kissβ¦ maybe convince you to spend the evening with me once the kids are asleep.β He said with half lidded eyes, biting his lip whilst looking at you.
Your cheeks immediately flared.
βMichaelβ¦β
βWhat?β
βYou canβt just say things like that.β
βI just did.β
He chuckled as you lightly swatted his chest.
βYou are so mean.β
βIβm teasing.β
βI know.β
ββ¦Mostly.β
Your eyes widened again.
βMostly?β
Before you could protest, he drew you into another kiss, and you laughed softly against his lips.
Just as his hands settled around your waist, and he started deepening a kiss, drawing a wonderful sound from youβ
Outside, a loud crash and some shouts were heard.
You immediately pulled away from Michael and almost ripped the curtains. You and him gaped at what you saw.
βMβMr. Jackson! Prince! Pleaseβ¦let go of the hose!β One of the workers pleaded as Prince just laughed mischievously and started spraying everyone in the vicinity.
Paris was in the garden beds, covered in dirt as she ripped out every new flower and replanted them backβ¦root side up. She just smiled and cheered at her own accomplishment.
The workers were frantically and gently trying to stop the havoc of the two children, but failing miserably.
Michael sighed dramatically.
βOur childrenβ¦β
βOur children!β You exclaimed out, already half way downstairs.
He blinked, he didnβt even know you were that fast as he watched you run out into the lawn, your skirt bundled up in one hand, chasing Prince around as he hosed down and waterboarded the newly planted grass.
Once you caught Prince into your arms, you went to Paris to stop her from making her own garden arrangement when suddenlyβPrince broke free from your hold and ran around again.
When you looked away from Paris, she was gone in a second, following after her brother. Both of them laughing and squealing as they threw mud on the workers.
The workers just laughed light-heartedly as they let the two toddlers have their messy fun. You apologized profusely and didnβt hesitate to do so.
Michael watched you with a smile of pure adoration. You were really an amazing woman.
When it came to your family, you never hesitated to act and put aside your own nature.
He sighed dreamily, laughing a little as he watched you.
You then looked at the window upstairs.
βMichael!β You called out, the loudest heβs ever heard you call his name. He immediately sat up.
βHelp me down hereβPrince and Paris have somehow teamed up with the squirrel and is chasing the gardeners!β
The workers all yelled playfully as Prince, Paris, and the squirrel chased them. You couldnβt hold back your laughter either as you rushed over, tryingβand failingβto hide your laughter as you scooped Paris into your arms and Prince running away.
He laughed brightly, immediately running downstairs to join in the chaos.
.
.
.
Note: That was the most suggestive thing Iβve ever writtenβ¦ππ Hope you guys liked this one! Much love to you all β€οΈ
been daydreaming about a beach vacation with jaafar...
the two of you finding a cute little beach town and renting a house for a few days, just the two of you to finally spend some time together without any of the obligations of your day to day life.
waking up with the sunrise, in a cool, comfortable bed and then going for a walk while the sun comes up, finding a local coffee shop to try. it becomes your routine for the rest of the trip, no matter how early you wake up or how late you sleep in, you always try out one of the local bakeries or cafes for breakfast before hitting the beach.
packing a lunch and a cooler for the beach, bringing lots of snacks and making sandwiches. jaafar does a grocery run right after you get there, and he buys all of your favorites without you even needing to ask. whenever you run out of snacks you take a trip to the store together, still feeling all sandy and tacky with salt water and sleepy from the sun so you're a little delirious and giggly as you walk through the aisles and grab different snacks to try.
finding a nice, quiet spot on the beach to spread out your large blanket. helping each other put sunscreen on and paying extra close attention as you rub the product in, feeling each other's skin already starting to warm from the morning sunshine.
spending the day in and out of the water, alternating between jumping with the waves and laying out in the sun. you bring a book to read, and jaafar sets up a speaker just loud enough for the two of you to hear but not enough to bother the people around you. jaafar letting you borrow his hat or sunglasses if you forget your own, and he spends the whole afternoon squinting against the sun but it's worth it.
eating the sandwiches you packed and trying not to get any sand in the cans of your drinks and failing miserable, using funny drink cozies you'd picked up at a gas station somewhere to keep the drinks cool just because they make you grin since they're that special type of silly with good memories attached. snacking all afternoon, eating chips and fresh fruit and stealing food from each other's hands just because it's fun.
when you're all exhausted from the sun, packing up and going back to the house to shower and get dressed, make yourselves look presentable for a nicer dinner. going to a local spot and splitting entrees because you can't make up your mind and sharing sips of your drinks. getting ice cream from a small shop afterwards because you simply cannot pass up ice cream after dinner while on a beach vacation. coming back every night no matter where you get dinner to try every flavor possible before you leave.
getting back to the rental and showering again, washing away the rest of the sand and salt water and sunscreen, pulling on a pair of the comfiest pajamas you own and relaxing in the bed or on the couch. you're freshly moisturized and tired from the all sun and you're both a little groggy but you're just so happy to be together, watching whatever show or movie is on TV and just enjoying each other's presence and how easy it is to be with each other before falling asleep in the cool sheets.
jaafar taking pictures of you the whole trip. some of them are for you, posed photos with a cute background or showing off your outfits or adorable candids, things for you to look back on and post and share with everyone else. he knows all your good angles, knows exactly what you want when you hand your phone to him. but also taking pictures just for the two of you, moments when you're not really paying attention but he just can't help himself.
you asleep on the beach, his baseball cap covering your eyes. you in the water, gesturing for him to come join you while waves crash around you. sitting across from him at dinner, studying the menu. licking the ice cream that had dripped onto your wrist from your cone in the heat. putting lotion on after a day in the sun, wearing nothing but a baggy t-shirt. on your walk to get coffee or making lunch for the day or holding your drink on the beach and looking so damn happy. he just loves you so much, he wants to capture it all.
practically reliving that day again and again until you have to leave, loving your little routine you've created on vacation. maybe you both decide to extend the trip by a few days, trying to stretch it out as long as you can before you absolutely have to return back to your normal life. making it a tradition every summer to take a trip like this, where it's all easy and simple and fun, and all you have to worry about is getting to the beach early enough to snag a good spot.
jaafar and actress!reader appeared on actors on actors and he was mesmerized by reader, ended up both just flirting and blushing throughout the video. the chemistry through the roof, people start to saying βare we interrupting the first date?β and shipping the two
β€οΈ i'm not patriotic by no means, but totally thinking about how nanny, michael, and the kids spend today in their matching fourth of july old navy shirts. the kids basically spend all day in the pool, laughing off comments made by their father about being as wrinkled as a raisin. and they'll probably have simple dinner of probably burgers and fries, no veggie in sight because nanny thought, it's a holiday no one eats vegetables today (if not something corn adjacent). they'll end the night by making s'mores and throwing pop its against the ground, and maybe, just maybe nanny and michael would be cuddled up a little too close in front of the fire pit.
β€οΈ i'm not patriotic by no means, but totally thinking about how nanny, michael, and the kids spend today in their matching fourth of july old navy shirts. the kids basically spend all day in the pool, laughing off comments made by their father about being as wrinkled as a raisin. and they'll probably have simple dinner of probably burgers and fries, no veggie in sight because nanny thought, it's a holiday no one eats vegetables today (if not something corn adjacent). they'll end the night by making s'mores and throwing pop its against the ground, and maybe, just maybe nanny and michael would be cuddled up a little too close in front of the fire pit.
Usually heβs tucked into your side, inhaling you with each breath, his parted lips ticking hot air onto your neck. On nights when youβre still awake, staring up at the ceiling with an arm around Michael and the other behind your head, youβd catch him mumbling in his sleep.
It has become one of your favorite past times honestly, making out his dreams solely based on his incoherent babbles or sudden twitches in his body.
βMβMickeyβ¦β you caught him mumbling into your skin one night. Uh oh, another Disney coded dream. You honestly back to bite the side of your cheek to restrain your laughter. βThatβs my lady, ainβt she prettyβ¦β
On another night, you even caught him talking to your βkidsβ, which made you heat up yourself. You imagined that Michael was dreaming of the two of you in your own, Tudor styled home, with a three floors and a big yard. You couldnβt make out the names of your kids, but boy there was a lot.
Michael became whiny when got up, complaining about how cold he is and how much he needs you. Tempting.
Even if when youβd shift, maybe to make a little bit of space between you or just simply adjusting your position, he pulls you closer. Itβs like he has this sensor that goes off whenever you arenβt skin to skin.
But you both have work to do today, and you unfortunately canβt spend it cuddling with the best boyfriend in the world. Pulling back the sheets was like lifting a rock from a bug. He curls into your side of your bed, desperate for your warmth as he whined into the seam of your pillows, escaping the sunlight from the drawn curtains.
βTorture!β he croaks, rolling onto his back with a pillow pushed to his face. His shirt rode up at his torso, revealing that brown, toned stomach. If he knew how much you wanted to lay back down right now.
After spending ten minutes getting him out of bed, washing his face, and guiding him to the barstool seats at kitchen island, he still dozed off. You snorted as you moved around some bacon in the pan when you looked over your shoulder. Luckily the smell of breakfast woke him up a bit.
When you serve yourself and sat next to him, he lazily picked at his food, chin planted in his palm as he blinked slowly.
You laugh in amusement and adoration, βDonβt tell me I have to feed you as well.β
He tilts his head and with a raised a brow, like heβs considering your gracious offer, βthat could happen.β
Michael was a greedy man. He craves your attention, your warmth, your presence. This whole βsleepy actββ whether it was realβ was between him and the man upstairs. If that meant staying up late a night so heβll be tired as hell in the morningβ¦ worth it. In the meantimeβ¦ more of you time for him.
You let out a quiet giggle as your brought up the forked scrambled eggs to his lips, and he leaned in, planting his big hand on your knee to βstabilizeβ himself before he took the bite. He swallowed before yawning, βalways cook so good, mama.β
Biting back a shit eating grin, you hold up his chin, your thumb rubbing his warm skin. Michael immediately leaned into your palm, even closing his eyes, relishing your sweet loving. βThank you, sleepyhead.β
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