Husband!Michael who carries you through the doors of Neverland after your wedding. You told him he didn’t have to but he said he wanted to do it like how it is in the movies.
Husband!Michael who comes home from a long day of rehearsal and flops beside you on the couch with a dramatic sigh. His whole body is sore, and he could really use a nice massage from you, but is too stubborn to ask. He keeps sighing loudly and rolling his shoulders with a groan. You side eye him, catching his gaze already on you.
"Michael," you hold his name out, "Do you want me to rub your shoulders?"
He tries to play it off cool, shrugging, "Well, if you're offering then yeah, sure. I guess that would be nice." All the while he's immediately moved to sitting in front of you, waiting patiently for your touch.
Husband!Michael who never ever fails to open the door for you. He never lets anyone beat him to it, and he most certainly doesn't allow you to open the door.
Husband!Michael who constantly takes photos of you, even when you're doing the most mundane of tasks. Reading? Picture. Talking? Picture. Watching a movie? Picture. Breathing? Picture.
Husband!Michael who starts leaving hints that he's ready for a kid. He buys books on parenting, leaving them purposely in plain sight. Talks about how sweet his nieces and nephews are, all while side eyeing you to see your reaction.
One time he was sitting beside you on the couch and without prompting said, "Yknow, you would look really good pregnant. Like really really realllly good."
You look at him like yeah right, but he's looking incredibly serious.
Husband!Michael who runs victory laps around the Neverland estate when you tell him you're pregnant. He’d take a long lap, and run back to you panting.
“you’re positive???”
When you nod he would scream and take yet another lap.
Husband!Michael who immediately starts building a nursery and buying all sorts of baby clothes, despite not knowing the gender. He buys you anything and everything that could help make the process easier for you. You have a whole closet now full of pregnancy balls.
Husband!Michael who just about faints when he first sees the baby through the ultrasound. He held your hand tightly, eyes brimming with tears. The sight of him made you emotional, and you squeezed his hand.
He kneeled beside you and kissed your hand, "I promise you, I will always be here to take care of and cherish you and our baby."
And there wasn't an inch of you that didn't believe him.
Synopsis: As michaels wife you can't escape the reporters and paparazzi trying to bombard you after Michael has passed.
Warnings: Mentions of Michael's death, mentions of depression, anxiety, and insomnia. Please please please take care of yourself, this is a very hard topic.
W.C. 2.2k
Masterlist
Nothing could have prepared you for that morning. Nothing. Before you had fallen asleep, everything had been fine. He was by your side, laying in your shared king sized mattress. He was breathing, he was smiling, he was talking, he had kissed you.
You had gone to check on the children when the doctor came in that morning, Michael was still asleep. You saw his chest rising and falling. You had kissed his head and thought nothing of the anxious feeling growing in your chest.
You were in the nursery, gently rocking your 6 month old baby girl, when you heard the doctor's voice shouting nervously from your bedroom.
After that, things were a blur. Your brain had shut out most of the memory, but you knew you had seen him despite the doctors best efforts to keep you from the room. You remembered the paramedics arriving far later than they should have, you remembered the sounds of the hospital, the voice of the doctor as he tried to tell you that your husband was gone.
You think you cried, you honestly weren't sure. You just remembered the feeling of emptiness settling into your chest, the feeling of your heart growing cold.
You refused to go back to the house for weeks, opting to stay with Janet. Those weeks were the darkest weeks of your life, you had lost your husband, the one person who understood you, the person who you had given your life to. And just like that, he was gone. It wasn't fair, nothing about this was fair. Not the fact that he was gone so suddenly, not the fact that you hadn't gone with him, not the fact that you had the children to look after.
You had really done your best to be there for the children, for the baby, Paris, and Prince. You tried to put up a strong front around them, to show them support, but there was only so much you could do.
There were days where you couldn't find the strength to leave the guest bedroom you were staying in. And there were a lot of days where you had wished that you hadn't woken up. But no matter how badly you wanted to be with Michael, you knew you couldn't.
You and Janet stuck together for a long time, leaning on each other for support. But there came a day when you knew you would have to go back to the Ranch, go back into the room to get your things. You had bought a small apartment, far away from all the things that reminded you of Michael. You couldn't live in the house, it would have driven you insane.
Janet kept the kids for the day, as you headed back to Neverland. You pulled off to the side of the road multiple times, trying to regulate your breathing. Since he had left it was like panic had embedded itself in your chest, you were always short of breath, you were always on guard, and you were always on the verge of a breakdown. It didn't help that you were receiving letter after letter from news outlets begging to get a statement from you. The entire family had given statements, but you were silent. Even at the funeral, you hadn't said anything. It took a lot of convincing to even get you to go, but you did, for the children. But you didn't say anything, instead you stood near the back, holding the children tightly, tears falling into a puddle at your feet.
The press took your silence and ran with it, saying that you had never cared for Michael, saying that you were in it for the money. The paparazzi had been stalking you more than ever, and you knew they would be at the gates of Neverland, waiting for your black Cadillac to drive by.
And that they were. There were so many of them, that they completely surrounded the car, trapping you just outside of the house. Their cameras flashed in a frenzy, blinding you from inside the car. Your throat closed up as you did your best to block out their antagonizing questions.
"Are you here to get the rest of his money?"
"Were you conspiring with the doctor?"
"How much money did he leave you?"
"Will you finally drop the act?"
"Are you happy your husband is dead?"
You covered your ears, sobbing into the steering wheel as security tried to get a hold of the crowd.
But the damage was done. The little amount of your heart left shattered into a million pieces. Everything around you blurred as you gasped for air, choking on your own tears and cries. Your sobs turned to screams as you curled in on yourself in the car, clutching your head in your hands.
It was Michael's two heads of security that shook you from your spiral. You jolted at their touch, body shaking as they looked at you with horrified expressions. You had been unreachable for 10 minutes, despite the fact that the reporters were gone and the two men were trying to talk to you.
You looked pale and frail, and they tried to make you go to the hospital, but you refused, saying that if you didn't go into the house now, you never would. They made you get into the back seat as they drove the car the rest of the way, sharing nervous glances with each other.
They stayed by your side while you walked through the house, getting the things you had come for. It wasn't as bad as you thought until you were standing in front of your and Michael's bedroom door. You quietly asked for a moment alone, to which the two bodyguards begrudgingly agreed to.
You stayed in the bedroom for a long time, hand running against the sheets, or the clothes in his closet. You slowly got your clothes, before carefully taking a few of his, the things that smelled most like him. You knew that his scent would fade away soon, but you didn't care. You needed something of his to hold onto. His familiar scent made your head spin, because you could smell him, but you knew he wasn't there.
When you got back to Janet's, you locked yourself away in the bedroom with his sleep shirt.
The next day, the front pages of the tabloids were plastered with your devastating face. The titles called you crazy, out of your mind, insane, a loose screw, anything they could think of they called you it. Janet was furious, but you couldn't find the strength to care.
All your strength had left you the day your husband died.
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It had been almost 17 years now, and you were better, but you still weren't healed fully. Things had been up and down, some years were good, and then some years were particularly bad. Especially while raising the baby, those were the hardest years. You were on your own, you were inexperienced, you were lonely, you were depressed, and you were paranoid beyond all belief. The press had still been bombarding you, still trying to get some sort of formal statement. But you were a sealed door, they weren't getting anything from you. These were the same people who mocked your husband, the same people who lied and tried to ruin him, and now they wanted to play the sympathy card. They could all go to hell.
There were days you begged God to bring Michael back, and there were days where you cursed at him for taking Michael away from you. When your daughter got older, she started asking questions about her daddy. Paris and Prince would always go quiet when she asked, and they would look at you. You always did your best to answer her questions without crying, you wanted her to know everything she wanted about her daddy. But it was hard, it was hard when she asked you why he was gone, if he was coming back, and it was hard when all three of them talked about how badly they missed him. You never tried to sugar coat things, you told them it was hard for you too, but that Michael believed all of you were strong, and that he was watching over you all.
Things got better as the press stopped hounding you, of course there was always a letter or two every month, but nothing like how it was before. That was until your husband's biopic had come out. You were proud of everyone involved, especially Jaafar. The premier was the first time you had been seen publicly at an event since Michael's funeral. You didn't dress up all crazy like other people, but you did wear his favorite dress. You thought the movie would be hard to watch, but it made you smile. For the first time in a long time, you felt your husband's presence. It was almost like he was sitting beside you, holding your hand. After the screening you found Jaafar and gave him the biggest hug you could muster, not caring that cameras were flashing behind you. You pulled back and smiled at him softly, "Michael would be so proud of you."
The moment was brief, but there was a lot said in how you looked at each other.
After the movie, it was like the floodgates opened. All those news outlets who had given up on a statement from you were suddenly pounding at your door, staking out your driveway, emailing you, emailing you, sending you letters. You hadn't felt this anxious in a long time, and you were nervous things would get bad again. You relied heavily on a prescribed medication to keep you from spiraling, but since things had been okay the doctor took you off of them. You had been okay for years, and now everything was starting to crash back in.
As much as the thought angered you, you knew how to get them to stop.
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After a lot of thinking, you had agreed to a singular interview, and only if they sent you a list of questions and stuck to the ones that you okayed.
And so there you sat, fidgeting nervously in a plush chair under studio lights. Janet was off to the side, there for emotional support.
The interviewer was a younger woman, she seemed nice, she seemed new, so you figured she would be professional, that she would stick to the questions on the page. And for the most part she did. She was polite, she asked about how you and Michael met, what it was like being married to him. And then one of the producers from offstage cleared his throat and looked at the poor girl sternly. She looked at you nervously, giving you an apologetic look.
Your chest dropped, you knew what was coming. You wanted to leave, you wanted so badly to take off out the door, but your body felt frozen in its place.
"There's a lot of speculation about that day, Mrs. Jackson. People want to know the truth. Did you have something to do with your husband's death? Did you marry him to get his money, was the love a whole scheme to become rich?"
Your mouth felt like a desert, you could feel your heart beating painfully in your chest. "No-" you breathed out, eyes stinging with tears.
"Is it true that you went crazy after he died? Were you sent to a mental hospital for help?"
The question struck something in you, and the fear was overrun with anger. "Let me ask you something. If the only person on this planet that truly understood you died while you were in the next room feeding your 6 month old baby would you be okay? A part of my soul died with him that day, do you understand what that's like? Do you understand what it's like to have to stay strong for your children when the person you loved more than life itself was taken from you? And do you know what it's like to be stalked, scrutinized, and bombarded by the same people who tried to tear down that person? No. You don't. My husband was my entire world, and when he was taken from me I was accused of being a part of it, I was followed. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, I could barely breath most of the time because my world was taken from me. So do not sit there and act like you know anything about what I went through, or assume that I went crazy. Because if that happened to you, you would have gone "crazy" too." You stood up. "I think we're done here,"
"Mrs. Jackson." She called out.
"No more questions, thank you." You walked straight to Janet, taking her hand and walking out of the studio.
As you got in the car, Janet couldn't help but smile, "That was quite the official statement from you. I don't think I've heard you speak that much in 17 years."
"Yeah well, they can take their shitty journalism and shove it up their ass."
Janet smiled and reached over, grabbing your hand, "I've missed you."
You smiled and leaned your head on her shoulder. "I missed you too."
Synopsis: You and Michael get ready for one the first interview after the release of the Michael Biopic. It's been a long time since either of you have done any sort of interview, and he asks if you'll just sit with him.
Content/Warnings: Fluff, Michael lives, 2026, proud uncle moment.
W.C. 1.5k
Parts: Part 1 (current), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
A/N: This is the first story based off of this request I got! Up next is the grandkids having you and michael going tiktok trends lol
You and Michael sat in the dark movie theater, watching the lights flickering across the large screen. Jaafar sat a few rows ahead with the rest of the cast, but you could feel his nerves from your seat. You knew how badly he wanted your husband to approve of his portrayal of him. There had been a handful of times you had talked to Jaafar late at night after a hard day of filming. He would call you later at night when Michael was asleep, talking to you about how worried he was that he wasn't doing Michael justice.
You always reassured him, telling him that Michael will be proud of him no matter what.
And it was true. You could feel the pride radiating off of Michael beside you. He watched the screen with slightly glassy eyes, squeezing your hand hard. When the movie ended, Michael was the first to stand up to applaud, his eyes solely on Jaafar.
After people had filed out of the packed theatre, you talked quietly with Jaafar's mother, Alejandra. You didn't fail to notice Jaafar and Michael standing off quietly to the side. You could see the emotion on both of their faces, the mix of pride, gratitude, joy, relief, and love swirling around the conversation. Michael knew how hard Jaafar had worked on the role, had seen the blood sweat and tears his nephew had poured into every detail. The sight of them hugging tightly made both you and Alejandra tear up.
Having been married to Michael for around 35 years now, you knew him like the back of your hand. You knew that Michael loved the movie with every ounce of his being, not because it was spectacular or emotional, but because Jaafar had given him back some of his humanity.
People desperately wanted to know Michael's exact thoughts on the movie. They wanted to know if he was upset that things were left out or glossed over, if he thought Jaafar did him justice, just everything. You and Michael were old, you both didn't exactly want to get all dressed up and sit in a chair while being berated with questions. So when Jimmy Fallon offered to do a Zoom interview, Michael jumped on it. You had actually never seen him so excited for an interview before, it made you laugh as he explained it to you over breakfast one morning.
"It's all virtual! They said I really don't even need to set up nice lights or anythin, I can just sit on the couch and use a computer. So I can be in the comfort of our own house and I get to brag about my nephew. Isn't that awesome, mama?"
You smiled more at the nickname. Ever since you and Michael had children that was his all time favorite name for you. He always said that it reminded him of how lucky he was. "I like that, why don't people do that more?"
He shrugged, "M'not sure, but I think that's the only kind of interview I'm doin from now on." He sipped his tea.
"I think that's a wonderful idea. When is it?"
"In two days." He scraped the last bit of breakfast off his plate.
"Oh good. Oh, by the way, the kiddos are coming over later today." You watched his face light up. Your second oldest had just had their second kid, which absolutely thrilled Michael. You both often ended up watching the grand babies whenever your kids had to go out of town or just simply wanted a night off. It thrilled Michael. He loved getting to play with them and spoil them rotten.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner? I would've gotten the bouncy house up and runnin an hour ago." He slipped his readers further up his nose.
You smiled, "Cause you know the baby is too young to go on the inflatables. Plus those two like to be indoors more than outdoors."
He nodded, "Alright, well maybe we can get some arts and crafts for the girls. Can you do the shoppy cart order delivery thingy?"
You laughed lightly and pulled your phone out, "Y'know you're gonna half to learn how to use a phone properly soon, I can't be instacarting things for you forever."
He frowned, "The light on the phone hurts my eyes!"
"Michael, I got you blue light glasses for christmas cause that's always your excuse." You smiled when he had nothing to say in return. "It's alright, I still love you even though you're horrible with technology."
"I don't get it, we're practically the same age and you know way more than me!" He crossed his arms.
"Cause I'm not as stubborn as you."
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Michael ran, well more like walked as quickly as a 67 year old can, around the living room. He was fixing up the area around him, making sure it looked great for the interview. Meanwhile, you set up the zoom.
"How do I look, mama?" He asked you.
"Like a very handsome and dapper gentleman."
"Do I look too old?"
You shook your head, "No, you look perfect." You pressed a kiss to his head. It made his body relax immediately. He sat beside you, placing a hand on your knee.
"Would you stay here with me? I'm sure they wouldn't mind you even being on camera. You keep me calm and help clear my head." He looked at you sincerely.
"Of course I will, Mikey." You squeezed his hand.
The two of you sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch, waiting to be connected to Jimmy.
His face appeared, and he smiled. "Ladies and Gentleman, please give a warm welcome to Michael Jackson and a surprise guest Y/n Jackson."
You both smiled and waved at the camera. The interview started off simple, Jimmy asking questions about your and Michael's life since retirement. You both answered honestly, saying you were absolutely loving it.
"So, Michael, I'm sure you've seen the Michael biopic?" It was just Jimmy's face on the screen, but you both knew there was an audience in front of him.
He nodded, "Yes, I have. I think I've seen it 3 times now."
Jimmy laughed, "Wow 3 times, that's a lot. So I guess you liked it?"
"I loved it? I thought everyone did an amazing job putting it together, especially Jaafar."
Jimmy smiled, "So you're happy with how he portrayed you?"
Michael eased a little bit, eyes becoming slightly glossy. "I'm more than happy. I loved every second of his performance. I'm just so proud of him."
You both heard the audience melt at his words. "So he did you justice?"
"I don't think it's about doing me justice. It's more than that to me. Yes he executed the voice and the moves, but he also gave me a new life. It wasn't an exact replication of me, and that's what I loved. I loved that he brought some of himself to the table, I mean I can see it in his eyes. He gave me something I've felt deprived of for a long time. He didn't make me this big superstar, performance machine. He gave me humanity. He really showed that there was more to me than just the dancing and performance."
You squeezed his hand. Watching him get slightly choked up. Jimmy smiled, "So you think he was the right choice?"
"He was the only choice." Michael confirmed. "I think he's the only one who would have put in that much effort. For two years he and I worked really closely together, and I could feel how bad he wanted to get things right. I don't think I would have seen that in anyone else. So yes, he was the only option."
The interview continued for a few more minutes before you and Michael waved goodbye to the camera and left the zoom. Michael sat back against the couch when you closed the computer. You sat next to him, leaning into his side. He wrapped an arm around you.
"You did great, Mikey."
"Well I had you there to calm me."
You smiled and felt your phone buzzing. Your eldest daughter had just sent you a screenshot, showing that Michael's song Billie Jean had taken the number one spot on the Billboard Hot 100. "Michael, Billie Jean is going viral... again." You laughed and showed him the phone.
He smiled, "I have a feeling there's going to be a lot more interviews we're gonna have to do."
Hi! Love your work, can I have a protective Michael x Wife! Reader? Maybe an aggressive paparazzi or something?
YES!
𝑮𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝑫𝒐𝒈
Michael Jackson x Wife!Reader
Synopsis: Michael was able to keep his calm when it came to most things, but when it came to your safety, he could become incredibly protective.
Content: Swearing, anxiety around large crowds, someone grabs reader, Michael lowkey loses his shit, suggestive content
W.C. 2.2k
Masterlist
You hated large crowds, something about them made your throat close up and your heart race a million miles a minute. Unfortunately for you, your husband was like a crowd magnet. Not that he really had any control over it, but wherever he went a crowd followed. Had you not hated it, you would have found it impressive.
With his third studio album having just been released, the crowds were getting more intense. You felt like you could hardly go anywhere with him without panic rising into your chest as people quickly recognized him and hovered near the two of you.
Honestly, the worst part of it was the paparazzi. They were what gave you the hardest time, always shoving, always yelling, it made your head fuzzy. Michael knew your aversion to crowds, and he did his absolute best to keep them as contained as possible. He hired more security, he even got duplicate cars to try and throw people off. But somehow those stupid buggers with their giant flashing cameras always found you two.
Since announcing your sudden marriage to the public, the paparazzi had been trailing you specifically. They were all eager to capture photos of you alone, finding any and everything to scrutinize you. It was exhausting. You felt like you couldn't leave the ranch without fearing that you might be photographed inappropriately.
You were a private person, which is why you had kept your relationship with Michael a secret until after you had said 'I Do.' At first you had liked that you had tricked the paparazzi into having not the faintest idea about your existence, but it seemed like they were determined to get back at you.
You sat in the back of the limo with Michael, your knee bobbing up and down anxiously as you drove through the streets. Michael was asked to go to some award show to present a couple awards. He wanted you to come with him officially as his wife. You had announced the marriage a few months ago but this was the first award show of any kind that you had been seen at publicly. He knew it was a big ask, but he wanted you by his side from now on, and who were you to say no to his pleading eyes.
Michael gently placed a hand on your knee, holding it gently, "If you keep that up you'll tear a hole in the floor of the car." He teased, trying to take your mind off what was waiting down the street.
You looked up at him, "Sorry, just nervous."
God you looked so heartbreakingly beautiful, it hurt Michael to look at you for too long. He smiled and kissed your head, "Don't apologize, baby. Y'know m'proud of you for coming with me tonight." He squeezed your knee gently.
You finally smiled, relaxing at his words, "You're too sweet to me."
"Impossible." He laughed, his hand gently grabbed your chin and guided your lips to his. You smiled into the kiss before pulling back slowly and bringing your thumb up to his lips, wiping the lipstick off his lips.
"Leave it, sweet girl. People know I belong to you now, there's no need to hide it."
You bit your lip, holding back your wide grin. He smiled and pulled you back into another kiss, this one deeper than the previous. He pulled you closer, disregarding the pull of his seat belt. Your lips moved gently against his, before trailing down to his jaw, then lower to his neck. He groaned lowly into your ear. "Y'sure know how to work me up right before we go out in public. It's criminal." He laughed breathlessly.
You blushed as you finally pulled away, satisfied with the claim you had placed on him. There were at least three lipstick prints on his neck and jaw, each matching the shade on your glossy lips. "I've had a lot of time mastering the skill." You shrugged and sat back in your seat.
He laughed and looked you up and down. He had bought you the most gorgeous black dress, it sat like silk against your skin, and perfectly matched his black leather suit. You both looked lethal. He sighed and played with the strap of your dress, "I can't wait to take this off you tonight." He smirked as he watched you flush visibly.
You eyed him for a moment, "Don't get ahead of yourself, pretty boy. We have a whole award show in front of us."
He laughed and kissed your knuckles.
The car slowly rolled to a stop, the moment breaking as screams erupted around you. He felt you tense up immediately, and he squeezed your hand, "I've got you, doll."
You took a breath and nodded. He got out on one side of the car, the screams exploding around him, you could see the flashes from the cameras going berserk. Before he could walk around to your side of the car and open the door for you, a group of paparazzi swarmed in, prying the door open. They stuck their cameras in the car without a second thought, blinding you quickly. You held your arm up, scooting to the side of the car Michael had left from. You could hear him shouting at the cameramen, telling them to back up. You looked out the back of the limo, seeing him being pushed back by his security.
Your ears were ringing, and you could feel your heart trying to escape your chest. You were pressed up against the left door, still trying to shield yourself from the right side, when the left door was yanked open.
You felt yourself being pulled from the car, but couldn't see by who, your vision blurry from all the flashing lights. Questions were being shouted at you left and right as people demanded to know anything and everything about you.
"Look over here!"
"Why have you been hiding?"
"Are you pregnant with Michael Jackson's children?"
"Did you trap him into marriage with a child?"
"Look this way!"
A hand grabbed your arm harshly, turning you to face the flashed head on. Your head felt like it was going to explode. Your eyes burned from the light and your ears rang so loud your head felt like it was being shoved against a brick wall.
Your throat felt more constricted with each question and command thrown at you. Your head couldn't keep up with anything around you, as the panic in your chest took hold of your body. You felt helpless against the crowd slowly closing in on you. It felt like being dragged underwater, no matter what you did you couldn't come up for air.
The grip on your arm was ripped away, a figure quickly standing in front of you as security shoved the man back. An arm wrapped around you, pulling you into his side, shielding you from the onslaught of flashes. You couldn't see him or hear him, but you knew his touch.
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The second Michael stepped out of the car without you immediately behind him he knew he made a mistake. He didn't even have time to get to your door before he saw two cameramen rip it open and shove their cameras into the car.
The smile on his face quickly turned into something more sinister as he ran around the back of the car, "Hey! Back up!" He shouted at the group that had quickly barricaded himself from you.
Everything had happened so fast that security had mistaken him as the one in need of help. They quickly flanked him, pushing him further from you. He tried shoving past them, growing angrier as more cameras flashed into the limo. "Get away from the car!" he shouted angrily before turning to the two security guards, "Get them to back up, my wife is in the car!"
They quickly scrambled to the side he had been trying to reach, pushing people away. He heard more shouts and looked over to see a man yanking your terrified form from the car.
Michael could've killed the guy. Two more security guards saw the look in his eye and grabbed his arms as he tried to get to you. They knew that if Michael got his hands on that guy things would be bad. Michael felt like he was going to go crazy if he didn't get to you. He could see the way your chest was constricting your airflow. The questions being shouted at you sent him over the edge. He yanked himself free from security's grip.
"Get your filthy hands off her." He growled at the man who was still holding onto you. His hands tore the man away, Bill quickly stepped in between him and the cameraman.
"Get her inside now." Bill nodded toward you.
It took every fiber of Michaels being not to jump the smug guy, but one glance down at you and he pulled you close. He wrapped an arm around you, hand shielding your face as he moved through the crowd easily. People quickly stepped out of his way, seeing what had gone down and seeing the murderous look on his face. He led you into the building. The security that had been hired at the venue quickly led the two of you to a green room backstage, seeing what had gone down.
Michael led you to the couch, carefully kneeling in front of you. Once the door shut he gently pried your hands away from your face.
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Everything was quiet now. You didn't know where you were, but you knew it was quiet and it was with Michael. After a moment he took your hands away from your face. Your eyes were squeezed shut, mascara running down your cheeks.
Michael's smooth voice spoke barely above a whisper, "I'm here, baby. Look at me, please. Let me see those gorgeous eyes."
You slowly opened them, your vision slowly coming back into focus. Your eyes settled onto Michael's face, twisted in concern. Your breathing was shallow, your lungs burning for air.
Michael cupped your face, "Baby, breathe with me, okay? Breathe." He took in a long breath, and held it for a second before letting it out. You followed him, breathing in and out slowly until your heart rate had returned to normal. Your bottom lip quivered slightly as you tried not to cry anymore. Michael's heart twisted, "It's okay, doll. Let it out." He pulled you into his arms.
The second his arms wrapped around you, it was like your body let go of all the tension. You melted into his arms, slipping off the couch and into his lap, head against his chest as you cried quietly. It wasn't loud or violent, it was so painful that there was almost no sound at all. Michael held you against him, rubbing your back, and whispering sweet things into your ear.
After you had calmed down you slowly pulled back, sniffling, "How bad is my makeup?"
He took a good look at you. Despite the runny mascara, and the tear stains you looked like a heartbreaking dream. "You're still the most gorgeous creature in the universe."
You choked out a laugh and gently wiped your cheeks. Michael helped you get the mascara off your face, holding your face in his hands afterwards. "I'm so sorry, baby."
"It's not your fault, Michael." You fixed a wrinkle in his suit.
"No but that should not have happened. I am going to have some serious talks with my heads of security as well as the security at this venue. That was unacceptable, I've never in my entire career seen anything like that."
"Mike, it's okay. Really, I'm okay." You cupped his face.
He shook his head, "Like hell that was okay. I couldn't even get to you! Some dick grabbed you, I swear I'll send his ass to jail for touching you like that." His face became stern. It made you smile, seeing how protective he was over you.
"There's no need for that, Michael. I'm sure Michael Jackson screaming at him was punishment enough." You tried to bring him back to earth.
"Not if I have anything to say about it. He's lucky I didn't snatch that fucking camera out of his hands and smash it on the ground."
You grabbed his chin and kissed him, bringing his mind back to the present. "Michael, all that matters is that you got me out of there. I don't want to give them the power of ruining our night."
He nodded a bit, blood starting to cool down as he looked at you. He kissed the tip of your nose and then your forehead. "You're right. Now let's get out there so I can show off my beautiful wife." He stood up, guiding you up with his hand. He walked the two of you out of the room and into the banquet hall. His hand stayed at the small of your back. Before entering the awards room you leaned up and whispered in his ear.
"You're getting something extra special for being so sexy and heroic for me."
Synopsis: Grandpa Mike gets addicted to watching love island with you. That's pretty much it.
Content/Warnings: Michael Lives, 2026, Love Island, he's addicted to the show, silly shenanigans.
W.C. 1.3k
Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (Current), Part 5
Masterlist
Michael moved around the kitchen frantically. "Michael, it's 8:58! Get your butt in here!" You yelled out to him from the couch.
You heard him make a distressed noise as he moved faster, "I'm gettin our snacks! Don't start it without me please!" He yelled back. You could hear the popcorn popping in the microwave and the sound of glass slinking on the counter. You shook your head and laughed quietly as your youngest daughter cozied into her spot on the large couch. She had been the one to introduce the two of you to the show. You had both come home after a small date night and found her yelling at the tv. When she explained why she was yelling, you and Michael were already sitting on the couch with mouths wide open. And from then on you were absolutely hooked. That had been last year, and you were all anxious for the new season, which was now a little over a week ago.
"Dad! Hurry, please! It's starting!" She wrapped the blanket around her.
Michael practically slid into the room, balancing a large bowl of popcorn in one hand, and a tub of ice cream in the other. "I'm here! What's happened? Did I miss anything?" He set the snack down and fell back into the couch, eyes already glued to the screen.
You shook your head, "No no, they're just playing the recap, don't worry." You leaned into his side as he sat the popcorn bowl in the middle of his lap.
He shovel popcorn into his mouth as the intro played, leaning forward slightly. You watched him, holding back a laugh, as he stared at the colorful screen with wide eyes.
“Michael, baby, you know you can blink right?” You nudged him playfully.
He shook his head, “No! I could miss something!”
“Dad, you’re not gonna miss anything. I think you’re more into the show than I am.” your daughter spoke from the other part of the plush sectional, scrolling on her phone.
Without looking, Michael threw a handful of popcorn at her, “No phone, applehead. I don’t want any spoilers!”
You laughed to yourself as she rolled her eyes and put the phone away.
"So they're recoupling tonight, right?" You asked.
"Shhhhhh!" Michael waved his hand in your face dismissively.
"Wow, this show has changed you." You crossed your arms and leaned away from him.
He finally tore his eyes away from the screen, looking over at you. "I'm sorry, mama. I don't know what came over me." He opened his arms up for you again.
You smiled and settled in them, patting his chest. "It's alright, I know you're just hooked on the show."
He smiled and cuddled you close. Everyone's attention turned to the screen. It always started off relatively civil, not much talking, maybe a few cheers or disapproving hmms. But the more the episode progressed, the rowdier all of you got, especially Michael. It was like he was a live commentator, pointing at the tv, throwing up his hands, etc.
He pointed at a guy on the screen, "Oh he's a big liar! How you gonna tell your girl one thing and then do the other?! What a shmo." He shook his head.
Your daughter laughed, "I don't think I've heard anyone use the word 'Shmo' in years."
Michael shrugged, "And see now why would she believe him? She knows he's gonna go kiss that girl later!" He tossed popcorn in his mouth.
"Love makes you do silly things!" You said.
"It's been less than 2 weeks, how can she love him?" He half argued with you.
"Wow, so you're saying you didn't love me within 2 weeks of meeting me?" You smiled as he paused.
"We're different." He pulled you closer. The answer satisfied you and you turned your attention back to the screen.
During the challenge, Michael sat forward slightly, trying to predict how the teams would answer.
"Most likely to remember your coffee order? That's gotta be KC, right?" He watched as Kenzie went over and kissed Caleb. His jaw dropped slightly, "Caleb? Why?"
Your daughter spoke up, "Cause he's southern, it's like a southern hospitality thing."
"Just cause he's southern doesnt mean he's got a good memory. Plus he just got there, they don't know him." Michael rubbed his chin.
"Well, maybe they picked him so Kenzie could kiss him." You added.
"That's not the challenge! It's not kiss whoever you want, it's kiss/pie the most likely person. I should be there running the challenge." He crossed his arms.
By the time the show had gotten to the recoupling, Michael was standing and pacing. You and your daughter kept giggling to yourselves, your daughter secretly filming the whole interaction.
"Oh we know how this is going down, Melanie's gonna be so upset. Oh look at her, bless her, she already knows." He kept pacing. He nodded as Kenzie got coupled up with Caleb. He paused slightly as Jen was put with Gabriel. "I guess that makes sense, I don't really know who else she would go with, oh but Bea." He immediately resumed his pacing, eyes stuck to the tv. He stopped dead in his tracks as they announced the next couple. Sol and Sincere. "I can't watch, she's so upset." But he never looked away. "Wait, so Corbin gets to choose someone to couple up with. Obviously he's gonna pick Mel, but what's gonna happen to Bea?"
God, he looked so stressed out. He sat back on the couch, leg bouncing up and down.
"Beatriz, you are now single, vulnerable... and dumped from the island."
"NO! You're joking!? That's ridiculous! What can we do to keep her? Can we protest or something? I like her! Someone write the network!" You and your daughter burst out laughing, unable to hide it any longer. Michael turned around, hands on his hips. "This isn't funny! This is serious! Gabe really liked her and now she's gone!"
You wiped away a stray tear, "I know I know, it's just you take it so seriously!" You laughed again.
"It's a serious matter!"
"Dad, it's reality TV. They're all gonna be fine!" Your daughter tucked away her phone.
Michael sat down, "You two always gang up on me, I'm sorry I'm the only one in this family that understands what's at stake here." He eyed the two of you.
You leaned over and kissed the side of his head, "You're adorable, y'know that right?"
He seemed pleased again, shifting slightly with a smile, "Yes, I do know that, thank you."
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Of course, your daughter posted the video online. People were enthralled with how dedicated he was to the show. Many demanded to know his thoughts on the islanders, begging him to make a pyramid or make a video ranking them. Which is how he ended up asking you to help him film videos for TikTok.
You watched him from behind the camera with a big smile. You watched as he spoke passionately about his rankings and gave ample reasons as to why certain Islanders were put in their spots. It had been a long time since you had seen him speak so freely and passionately. Once he was done he looked around the camera at you.
"Do you think I said too much?" He asked.
"No, I think that was absolutely perfect, Michael." You smiled at him sweetly.
He came over and hugged you, "You'd make a great bombshell." He spoke into the crook of your neck.
"Yeah, if they had an elderly's love island." You laughed.
His eyes practically lit up, "Oh that would be awesome! And we could host! Someone get ITV on the phone now!!!"
Can I request MJ enemies to lovers vibe with tension and misunderstanding beheheheheh
Oh I live for this kind of trope ;)
𝑫𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝑳𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒔
Michael Jackson x Famous!Reader
Synopsis: You weren't sure when this rivalry between you and Michael started, all you knew is that you absolutely loathe him. What was even more frustrating was how badly you wanted to take his face in your hands and kiss that smug look off his face.
Content/Warning: Enemies to LOVERS WOOOOO! Swearing, tension, misunderstanding trope, yall both freaky, suggestive content. Non consensual touching (not michael)
W.C. 2.9k
Masterlist:
You didn't know why Michael Jackson hated you, and you didn't know when his hatred festered. Truthfully, you had admired the guy before he was a total dick.
It was at an afterparty for some award show, that you realized he hated you. You were both talking in a small group, two other famous singers separating the two of you as the group stood in a circle. His shades were on, his expression almost unreadable. Almost. You could tell he was listening when the other two celebrities spoke, but whenever you added to the conversation his brows would furrow together and his lips pressed into a thin line. Then he would quickly butt in, interrupting you as he pleased. You could barely get a full sentence in before his silky voice cut you off. It had you fuming silently.
You didn't know what his problem was.
You could feel the grip on your champagne glass threatening to crush the poor crystals. Your eyes narrowed on him after he had interrupted you for what felt like the millionth time, the other two celebrities looked between the two of you nervously. They weren't sure what had caused this kind of tension so quickly, but they wanted out. They politely excused themselves, leaving you and Michael, staring daggers at each other.
You waited patiently for him to say whatever it was that was making him so moody, but you were met with silence. You scoffed lightly and rolled your eyes, "Fix your face, those sunglasses aren't hiding anything." You brushed past him, shoulder bumping into his. It sent a wave of heat through the both of you silently.
You left the party after that, a silent vendetta against the global superstar settling into your chest. The vendetta wasn't the only thing lingering on your heart, unbridled desire mixing dangerously with hatred.
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Michael watched you leave the party, his shoulder felt like it was on fire. His jaw was so tight he thought his teeth would be ground down to nothing by the time you left his eye sight.
You were a minxy little thing, and he hated it. He hated that you had so easily tricked the public into thinking you were this sweet little princess when behind closed doors you were really a snobby brat.
He had heard your entire tantrum earlier. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but Diana had come up to him and told him that you had asked to see him before the award ceremony started. Something about needing a pep-talk since it was your first time presenting an award. As he approached the holding room where you and your manager sat, he could hear your hypnotic voice talking angrily.
"God, he's such a flirt, it's ridiculous! I mean you saw the way he got handsy with me, it was disgusting! He really thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread, well he's in for a rude awakening. In a year people won't even remember his name." You spoke fiercely, groaning as you thought about the handsy actor that was presenting the award with you.
Michael thought back to when he had spoken to you just a little earlier, how he had put a hand on the small of your back to gently steer you away from people who weren't looking where they were going. Was he being flirtatious... yes, but he didn't think it was so bad that you were disgusted with him. He bit the inside of his cheek, he was trying to be a gentleman, but maybe he should have just let you get knocked off your feet. Maybe that would have taken your ego down a notch. I mean how self centered you were that you thought that he was desperate for your attention. And how self righteous were you that you thought it was okay to pray on his downfall? He immediately pivoted on his heel, walking away from the room, you clearly didn't need a pep talk from him if that's how you felt.
He took his seat in the awards room, pride raging through his body. He had fallen for the little act you put on around others, but now he knew the truth, and he hated how ugly it was. But what he hated most was that a large part of him had been trying his hardest to get your attention. But that was before he knew what you were really like. It should have made him feel better, made him want you less, but it didn't. His body still longed to be close to yours.
He watched as you presented the award, eyeing the actor standing next to you. He rolled his eyes, clearly you thought every man was just dying to get your attention. What was worse is that the guy clearly was. Oh god that made him even angrier. He hated the idea that you were probably thinking to yourself about how much men wanted you, and he hated that you were right.
His eyes trailed down your body as you left the afterparty, he couldn't help himself, and that only added fuel to the fire in his heart. His eyes found your hips, watching them sway naturally as you walked towards the exit. He couldn't help himself as he watched your hair swish softly behind your shoulder. Almost as if you were mocking him, waving goodbye with nothing but the back of your head.
Quincy eyed the man whose breathing had turned ragged as you disappeared out the doors of the venue. He nudged Michael, "Mike... Mickey.... Michael!" He snapped his fingers in front of Michael's face.
Michael blinked and looked at Q, "What?" He demanded harsher than he meant to.
"You look like you're a lion stalking its prey, man. If you like her just go talk to her, don't ogle at her."
"I do not like her, and I was not ogling." He said it too quickly, even he didn't believe himself.
"Right, and I guess next you're gonna say Jermaine is your favorite brother?"
Michael glared at Q, angry that he had been caught.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Michael couldn't get you out of his head after that. Each time he saw your name on a magazine, heard your name on the news, heard your voice on the radio, he felt the hatred grow more and more. It had lit a fire in his chest. But people always say where there is desire there's gotta be a flame. So as that fire grew hotter, so did his want, no, his need for you.
It was a vicious cycle, more hate led to more need, which only made him hate you more, and round and round it went. He couldn't do anything without feeling bombarded by your essence, it was suffocating yet he wanted more.
What drove him crazy was the idea that you had this effect on him and probably hadn't given him a single thought.
Boy, was he wrong.
The more you saw of him the more your confused resentment built up. Each award show, each party, each time someone muttered his name, it was like a hole opened up and swallowed everything that wasn't him. It was driving you crazy, but you couldn't get enough. You secretly loved the thrill. You loved seeing him tense up whenever you stepped in a room, you loved seeing his jaw muscles flex as you walked by. You absolutely delighted in the fact that his hands would ball into tight fists when you talked to other guys, especially guys his age. You couldn't help yourself from letting visions of his big hands on you plague your mind. You wanted him to come up behind you and grab you by the waist, the wrist, the arm, hell even the back of your neck, and lead you away from whichever sad guy you were talking to. But what you loved most of all, is how you could feel him watching you. His sunglasses did nothing to hide his piercing gaze, and you could feel everywhere it went.
Despite the fun you felt, you also felt like you were being tormented. You still had no idea why he was acting like this. You couldn't help but think maybe you had done something? Maybe that small interaction you had completely turned him away from you, or the idea of you. It stung more than you had liked to admit. It was ridiculous, you had only ever had one real conversation with the guy, and yet your mind was reeling over every detail of it, searching for the key to his hatred. It made you feel silly, it made you feel desperate (which you were).
This little game of toying with each other had been going on for over a year. Everything was building up, the hate, the resentment, the confusion, the anger, the sadness, the want, the need. And then it all came crashing down.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
It was like fate had planned the whole thing, because here you were at another after party for the same award show exactly a year ago. Luckily you got to enjoy this one, no stress of presenting, no handsy co-presenter... or so you thought.
You stood with a group of other singers, you could feel Michael watching you from just across the room. Diana Ross was standing next to him, clinging onto him like he was the fountain of youth. She was talking his ear off, and it was evident he wasn't paying a lick of attention.
You had grown tired of this little game between you two. You had started to think it was less of a game and more like he actually hated you so much that it made him viscerally upset at the mere sight of you.
You did your best to ignore his stares, trying to focus on anything that wasn't him. In the process of doing that you felt a hand slide around your waist like a snake. You looked up to find yourself staring up at the same guy who you presented with last year, the handsy one, Rob. You tried stepping away, giving him a polite smile.
His grip tightened around you, and he pulled you closer, his head leaning down to your ear. You could smell the whisky on his breath, it made you sick to your stomach.
"Rob, please let go of my waist." You placed a hand on his chest, trying to keep as much distance as possible between you and the drunkard.
He laughed, and it made your stomach tighten with unease. "Why would I let go when I just found myself the prettiest little piece of ass in here?" His hand moved lower.
You shoved at him as best you could, pushing him backwards. The motion sent his drink spilling down his chest. He looked at you angrily. "You little bit-"
You slapped him hard across the face. "Don't you ever touch me like that again. I put up with your grab hands last year, but I sweat to god Rob if you try anything like that ever again with me or another woman I will end your shitty career."
Michael was halfway to you when you slapped the man. He halted in his stride, watching with everyone else as you yelled at the guy. Put up with him last year?
Michael's heart sank in realization. You weren't talking about him, you had never been talking about him.
He watched you quickly walk past, eyes slightly glossy, as you made your way to the door. He gently grabbed your arm. "Hey are you-"
You pulled yourself free, "Stop it, Michael. I can't deal with this right now." You continued to the door.
Michael looked torn, on one hand his physical body wanted nothing more than to knock a few teeth out of the slimy guy, but his heart was practically begging him to follow you.
He turned on his heels and followed you out of the grand room, rushing to catch up with you. "Wait, Y/n, slow down!" He jogged up to you.
"Go away, Michael." You kept walking, refusing to look at him.
He took hold of your arms, stopping the two of you in the dim hallway. "Just wait a minute!" He pleaded slightly. "Just- are you okay?"
"Stop it! Stop doing this to me!" You pulled away from him.
"Doing what to you!?"
"Stop the double act, okay?? It's confusing! Just hate me with your full chest! Don't try playing with my emotions anymore, I'm over it." You breathed heavily.
His breath caught slightly, watching you, holding you steady in his hands. "I don't hate you." His voice was raw.
You looked up at him, his scent easing your stance. "What? Then why do you glare at me, why do you tense up when I walk by, why do you act like I'm this evil person?"
"Because I wanted you to be." He confessed. "I wanted you to be horrible so that all these suffocating things I feel for you would go away. I wanted a reason to hate you so I could get over you. But I can't. You are impossibly addictive."
His face was inches from yours. You stared up into his eyes and into his heart. You found that same flame you had been carrying for him buried deep in his chest. You saw all of that desire you had thought was one sided rushing forward like a flood. And then you saw yourself in his eyes, you saw yourself the way he saw you, you saw desire embodied.
You grabbed the collar of his shirt, crashing your lips onto his. He immediately met you with the same intensity, everything he had been holding back rushing out all at once. He pulled your body against his, leaving no space for any hesitation. He gripped your waist like if he let go you would slip right through his hands.
Your hands grabbed at him everywhere, trying to find the best place to anchor yourself. He walked you backwards, your back hitting the wall hard. The force knocked the air out of your lungs, your mouth gasping for air. Michael didn't waste the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You grabbed at his hair, tugging it. He let out a groan in response, which only prompted you to pull more.
You stayed there for a while, panting into each other's mouths, bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces, and desire washing away any anger or resentment that lingered.
You were the first to pull back, Michael trying to chase your lips. "Michael." You breathed out his name, catching his attention.
He looked at you, his big brown eyes hazy. "Yeah?"
"Tell me this is real. I don't want this to be a one time thing. I don't want this to be out of pent up anger. I want it to be more than that. It feels like more than that. Tell me you feel it too." You met his gaze.
He saw the scared look in your eye, he saw how vulnerable you had made yourself to him in that moment. "I feel it too, I feel every bit of it and maybe even more." He assured you, gently. His voice takes on a softer tone.
You nodded and pulled yourself into his chest, hugging him. "Why did you pretend to hate me?"
"Because I thought I had heard you talking about me... and it made me upset that you could say such hurtful things and still have my heart captured." He hugged you to his chest.
You placed your chin on his bicep, looking up at him, "You thought I was talking bad about you? When?"
"It was actually last year exactly. It was this award show, and Diana told me you had asked to speak to me before presenting. And when I came by I heard you talking about some guy who had been flirting with you, and I thought it was me."
The realization dawned on you. That's why he had been so different at the afterparty. "I wasn't talking about you! I was talking about that di-"
"Rob, yeah... I kind of just put that together." He rubbed the back of his neck.
"I also didn't ask Diana to bring you to me." You frowned.
Michael nodded again, "Yeah, I figured that too... Diana she can be... controlling, manipulative, she's a lot."
"She's old." You stated simply. It made Michael laugh loudly, the smile staying on his face as he looked at you.
"I'm sorry I hurt and confused you. I just, I honestly thought I was the only one feeling so strongly about it."
"No, I did too. You're incredibly attractive when you're trying to pretend you hate me." You smiled, watching him blush.
"And you're incredibly hard to hate when you look like that all the time." He pressed a kiss to your lips.
"Well now you don't have to pretend to hate me, and I don't have to pretend I don't want your hands all over me." Your hand slid back into his curls.
Michael smirked, his hands starting to move, "That can easily be arranged."
You smiled and let him lead you out of the forgotten party.
Synopsis: When Michael finds himself at Studio 54, he expects a good night. What he doesn't expect is being so drawn to you from across the dance floor...
Content/Warnings: Michael is a D1 yearner, heavy tension, mentions of alcohol and drugs, dirty dancing, suggestive content but not graphic.
Era! Off the Wall
W.C. 2.6K
Chapters: Chapter 1 (Current), Chapter 2, Chapter 3
Link to the pinterest board so you can get the aesthetic
Masterlist
The second he arrived it was like a fever took over the building. He came waltzing in, Quincy Jones following a short distance behind. People up on the second floor clung tightly to the railing as they leaned over to get a good look at him. The air in the room felt electric, girls fixing their hair, shifting around their tops to get the perfect amount of cleavage. People had even momentarily paused their partying on the dance floor as the ripple of his name made its way through the building.
Michael waded through the crowd of intoxicated young adults, a smile hanging from his lips lazily. He was in New York for 2 weeks and Quincy had given him no choice but to come to the infamous Studio 54. He was reluctant at first, but he quickly gave in, the aura of the building overriding any hesitance in his body. He wanted to see what all the rage was about, he wanted to see if what people said was true. He wanted to know if this was the wild, animalistic, unfettered, free-spirited night club that everyone claimed it to be.
Short answer, yes, it was all of those things and more.
It wasn't like Michael was new to the environment, he and his brothers got their start from performing in strip clubs in the midwest, but none of them were as magical as this. In fact, unlike the clubs his father had booked him when he was the age of a kindergartener, this club didn't suffocate him at all, he didn't feel like he was unsafe, he felt free.
Quincy came up to his side as they waded deeper into the building, he grinned and leaned down to whisper in Michael's ear, "Still feelin' hesitant?"
Mike let out a breathy laugh, "Nah, m'feelin great, Q." He smiled bright, nodding at a group of ladies who eyed him up and down.
"Good, cause I got the best seats in this place." He nodded up to the second floor where he saw a small area blocked off. It sat in the center of the second floor balcony, providing a view of the entire club. The room was clothed in red velvet and silk in a variety of different oranges. There was the swankiest looking couch he had ever seen and a chair that was the shape of a literal hand. The table that sat in the middle looked like it was made out of disco ball fragments and fairy dust. There were large plumes of pink feathers that clung to a large floor lamp. It was the most overwhelming yet mesmerizing room he had ever laid his eyes on.
Quincy led Michael to the spiral stairs that led up to the second floor. Michael paused halfway up them, his body telling him there was something he was missing. He scanned the crowd below him, everyone had resumed all of their previous activities. He saw people dancing, people talking and laughing, people drinking, smoking. It was almost too vast to look at. But his eyes raked across the sea of people before being drawn like a magnet to her.
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You stood with your girlfriends against the back wall of the club. They were on their 5th round of whatever the drink of the night was. You think it's some sort of tequila based drink that was so sweet you couldn't even taste the alcohol. It wasn't really your style, no you opted for an espresso martini and whatever substance was in the small compact mirror in your hands. Maybe it was the dangerous mix of alcohol and drugs in your system but you felt a pair of eyes on you. Your eyes scanned the crowd as best you could.
One of your friends tapped your shoulder, pulling you away from your search. She held her drink in one hand, her other hand lingering on your shoulder, "You're up next, babe." She pointed to the elevated stage where the current DJ was wrapping up.
Excitement fills your body like a rush of adrenaline. You sniffled slightly and tucked the compact into your bra, thanking your friend and giving her a playful wink as you made your way to the stage. You fluffed up your hair, and smoothed out the tight little dress you had stepped into back at your apartment.
As you took your place behind the booth, getting things set up to your liking you felt the familiar return of the eyes from before. You ignored the feeling as you placed the headphones around your neck, you typically would have actually put them on your head, but you had spent forever fluffing up your hair and getting it to sit just right. Your hand held one side of the headphones up to your ear, your other hand quickly fiddling with certain dials and indicators. The table felt so good beneath your fingers, you could feel the energy slicing from the hundreds of wires into the soft pads of your fingers.
You queued up a few songs before the stare came back. It felt purposeful at this point, like whoever was staring at you wanted your attention, wanted to make you nervous. But it also felt thick, like this person was using all their energy to make you look at them. And shit, it was working. You glanced up from the mixer, eyes somehow knowing exactly where to look. They trailed straight up in front of you and into the VIP box in the balcony.
There he stood, dressed in fitted bell bottoms that hugged his thighs perfectly, and a long glittery flowing shirt that plunged almost all the way to the waistband of his pants. He leaned against the balcony, skin shining beautifully under the rainbow of colorful lights. His big brown doe eyes locked onto yours.
Either your incredibly intoxicated brain was pulling a prank on you, or Michael Jackson was staring straight into your soul like he had already conquered it.
With the way he was looking at you, it wouldn't be long until he did.
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Michael watched you move effortlessly through the crowd and up into the dj booth. His eyes raked over your body more times than he would like to admit. He wanted to commit your figure to memory, everything from your chunky gold heels to the bold turquoise makeup look that made you look less human and more siren. Oh you were absolutely poisonous.
He had been silently praying to God that you would look his way, that you would spare him even a single glance.
And then you did, your glossy eyes meeting his. Did you naturally have that effortlessly bewitching look in your eyes, or was that something that you saved specifically for men who looked at you like you were the sun? Michael wasn't sure he cared all that much, all he cared about was that you kept looking at him.
And you did, a smile pulling at your lips as your hands moved across the mixer with ease. Everything about you was captivating, Michael genuinely felt like a sailor being lured to death by a siren. He leaned further over the railing, eyes trailing over every curve of your skin that you mercifully let him see.
As his eyes met your, you bit your lower lip slyly. You shot a wink at him as you pressed play on the mixer, turning the volume up as the crowd hollered at the song.
Disco Inferno boomed through the speakers, hitting Michael like a punch to the gut. He smiled and dipped his head, nodding at you as an approval of your song choice.
Quincy called Michael away from the railing, wanting him to sit down and have a drink. Michael left his spot begrudgingly, but kept his eyes trained on you. Even when he sat on the plush couch he looked through the iron railing at you. Every sip of alcohol made his body ache for more of your attention. Since the music had started playing you had paid him absolutely zero thought. He knew you were doing it on purpose, he knew you could feel his gaze on you.
Quincy talked beside him, introducing him to other celebrities, producers, business men, whoever. Michael didn't care. He sat watching you, watching your hands move expertly against the mixer. He wished your hands were on him. He could imagine your touch easily, the feeling of your hand on his chest, your fingers in his hair.
You sneaked the tiniest glance up at him. He sat with his legs slightly widened, body leaned back, drink dangling lazily from his hand. It was a mistake to look, because that one look lit your whole body on fire.
Michael noticed, he caught your eyes darting up at him before back down to your task at hand. He noticed the heat in your cheeks, and it made him giddy. He watched you move to the music, head nodding perfectly on the downbeats of each song, hips swaying carefully. It was so natural that it could have made him cry out in pure joy.
He found himself wondering about you, what was your name, did you live here? Did you have a boyfriend, a girlfriend, any kind of partner? God, he hoped not. Did you always elicit this kind of response from strangers? He wondered how you felt about animals, did you like them as much as he did, what if you hated animals. He wondered what you smelled like. His best guess was some sort of husky amber scent, or maybe some kind of citrine smell.
He didn't know anything about you and he was already imagining what a date would look like, how bad he would spoil a girl like you. He imagined the sound of your voice, how it would sound hearing you say his name.
Quincy shook his shoulder, "Michael!"
He blinked, you were gone. Shit, he had been day dreaming so hard he had missed you leaving the stage. He stood up, eyes searching the crowd frantically, what if you had left? He thought he may actually pass away if you had slipped through the cracks.
Quincy looked up at him, "Michael, relax, she's on the dance floor."
He let out a sigh of relief, "Good," he looked at Quincy, "Wait, how do you know who I'm looking for?"
"You've not exactly been discreet about it, Mike. I mean Cyndi Lauper was sitting next to you and you were starin' at that dj chick."
Michael shrugged, "She caught my eye, Q."
"Well, Jesus, Mike don't just stand up here. Go talk to the girl before I lose my mind."
Michael smiled and left the VIP area, fully on a mission.
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After your set you carefully slipped out from the booth and over to your friends. They smiled and kissed your cheek, applauding you.
Before you knew it, you were on the sparkly dance floor with them. The three of you danced close, hands roaming each other comfortably. You wolf whistled as another girl came and whisked away one of your friends. Then your other friend quickly disappeared with a guy, sending you a wink as they left the floor. You smiled and continued dancing, letting the music clear your head. You shut your eyes, the music leading your body in fluid movements.
You felt his presence before you saw him, in fact you were so certain it was him you didn't even open your eyes. A large hand found its way to the small of your back, and you leaned into the touch. Your back grazed his chest, you could feel the cold touch of his necklace graze your bare back. The sharp difference in temperature sent a chill down your spine. His hands settled on your hips, guiding them with his to the music. Your heart felt surprisingly steady, like this was natural, like dancing with Michael Jackson was just an ordinary experience. Maybe it would become one, Michael sure hoped it would.
Michael felt your body relax and press into his touch, your head leaned back against his chest, his mouth right next to your ear. He wanted nothing more than to dip his head and kiss your glistening neck, but he remained a gentleman, or as much of one as he could muster.
He wasn't sure how long you two stayed like that, but it had been a couple of songs. Slowly you turned in his grasp, now facing him. Your glossy eyes met him again and he could have sworn he was in heaven. You both smiled lazily at each other, sharing a knowing look.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, as he wrapped his around your waist, bringing you closer. "I'm Michael."
You smiled more, you wanted to say 'i know,' but you decided to play his little game, "I'm Y/n, it's nice to finally meet you, Michael."
God you sounded exactly like he had imagined, and somehow you smelt better than he could have ever dreamt.
His thumb drew little circles against your hip, "You dance like this with every guy you meet?" he teased slightly, leaning closer to your face.
"No, just you. And do you stare at every girl that peaks your interest?" You leaned closer, nose brushing his.
"Nah, just you." He copied your response. You smiled at the lighthearted banter.
"I guess that makes me a very lucky girl, hm?"
"That depends on if you make me equally as lucky and go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?" His grip on your hips tightened ever so slightly, it made your knees slightly weak.
"Why wait until tomorrow night?" You smiled, a mischievous glint hitting your eye.
He raised a brow, a grin matching the look in your eyes. "What did you have in mind?"
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
You and Michael found yourselves seated in a waffle house, laughing violently at something one of you had said. His security guard, Bill, sat a couple of seats away, enjoying his own late night/early morning breakfast.
It was close to 5 AM the next day, you and Michael had been terrorizing the waffle house for almost 4 hours now. You would've felt bad had you not been having such a good time. And Michael felt the same way.
When the sun started to peek through the city streets, Bill finally decided to intervene.
"We gotta head back to the hotel room before your father has an aneurysm, Joker." Bill clapped his shoulder.
Michael sighed and muttered, "I wish he would," causing you to double over in more laughter. Michael smiled proudly.
You stood up, "I should head back to my apartment."
Michael stood as well, looking at you curiously, "How are you getting home?"
"I'll probably walk." You grabbed your purse, carefully reaching for money to pay for the food.
Michael stopped you, "First, you're not walking home alone. Second, I'm paying."
"Michael, I'm the one who suggested we come here, and I am perfectly capable of walking, I've done it many times before."
He placed down enough cash to cover the bill and to leave a hefty tip. "I don't like that, you're not walking home on my watch."
"But it's an inconvenience to take me home, my apartment is on the opposite side of the city from your hotel." You crossed your arms.
"Then you'll come to the hotel with me and we can get you a cab from there." Michael said cooly, even though he had no intent of calling a cab.
"Can I not call a cab from here?" You challenged, eyes narrowing.
"No, you can't." He said simply, taking your hand and leading you to the sleek Cadillac he had arrived in.
"Why are you so worried, you're not my boyfriend." You teased him lightly.
He opened the door for you, a smile already on his face. "Not yet."
A/N: lowkey kinda love this concept and might make a part 2 if ppl would be interested in that!
Synopsis: As the popularity of Thriller rises, so does the work load that demands Michaels full attention. Days that you once spent watching movies on the couch, or calling late at night now have left you feeling lonely and empty. You're desperate to have someone, anyone to talk to, and it just so happens that fate brings back your best friend from college.
Content/Warning: Lil bit of angst, hurt/comfort, jealous michael, possessive michael, lil frisky at the end, suggestive content, Michael's in the wrong, reader is lonely, language.
W.C. 3.1k
The apartment was quiet. Not a natural quiet, but an uncomfortable unfamiliar quiet. Sure the tv was on and the dishwasher was running, but the air of everything was silent. Michael was supposed to arrive 10 minutes ago, and yet here you sat alone, phone in hand. Michael had called saying he wasn't going to be able to make it again. This was the 3rd time this week and it was only Wednesday. He had rambled out some rushed and half sincere apology, stating he would of course make it up to you.
You weren't a fool, you knew he was busy. Of course he was busy, he had just made the best selling record of all time. It only made sense that he had just about every second of his day taken up. But still. It left you feeling incredibly lonely in your own relationship. It had been 2 straight months of desperately clinging to the small bits of time where you did talk to him. Every 2 minute phone call late at night was trying to fuel a 2 year long relationship... and it just wasn't working anymore. And Michael didn't even seem to know.
He didn't seem to realize that every time he gave you the promise that he would 'make it up to you' and failed to deliver, you were losing hope. You really were trying to hold on tight -oh god you were trying so hard- but you were slowly realizing that Michael practically knew nothing about your life anymore. Nor did it seem like he really wanted to.
He didn't know that you were struggling with the relationship, didn't know that a company had agreed to publish the book your were writing, he didn't know that just a week ago you had been so sick that you could barely get out of bed, he didn't even know that you had gotten a fish in an attempt to feel less lonely. And he most certainly didn't know that a certain guy was trying to slip back into your life with the lack of Michael's presence.
Bryce had been watching you for around a month now. Not exactly in a creepy way, it wasn't like he was stalking you or showing up at your house. He had seen you at a local coffee shop a month ago, and he had seen how drained you looked. He asked the barista if you were a regular, to which she said yes, so Bryce kept coming back. He had watched your spirit deflate little by little, and he knew exactly the cause. When Michael had asked you out your senior year of college, Bryce was furious that he was beaten to the question. And then of course, Bryce left for a job in Atlanta while you got straight to work writing and staying perfectly happy in Michaels arms.
But he was back now, and he was on a mission.
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After Michael had called you and said he couldn't come over, you fed your fish and headed to the coffee shop on the corner to clear your head. Or to wallow in self pity, you weren't entirely sure.
You sat in your usual booth by the window, completely unsuspecting of what was coming your way.
You read through a review of your book's first draft, eyes scanning the words to find the critique you needed to make the novel better.
Your attention was pulled from you when a figure slid into the boothed seat across from you. You looked up, eyes widening at the sight of the man you hadn't seen in almost two and a half years. He gave you a smug smile. "Surprise."
You quickly moved out of the booth and hugged him tightly. "Bryce! What are you doing home? Why didn't you tell me? Oh my god, I can't believe you're here!"
His arms slid around your waist, holding you close to himself. The sound of your excitement was music to his ears. "Ya missed me that bad, huh?" He teased, smiling to himself.
"Of course I've missed you! How long are you here for?" You sat back down, the review of your novel completely forgotten.
"Well, I'm actually here to stay. The firm I work for just opened up a new location here and they're sending me here to keep track of things." He watched your eyes light up.
You smiled more, the loneliness in your eyes slowly disappearing. Finally you would have someone, someone who knew you. Maybe now you wouldn't be so lonely anymore. "That's amazing! Wow, you have no idea how happy that makes me. I've missed my best friend." You smiled.
Best friend, right of course. He felt the bitterness return, but kept it hidden. We'll see how long that title lasts. The thought ran through his mind before he spoke. "I've missed you too, how have you been?"
The two of you quickly launched into casual conversation, catching up with each other. Laughter filled the space between the two of you, smiling so wide your cheeks hurt. You told him about everything that you were supposed to tell Michael (more like the things that Michael had failed to ask). And he listened.
He saw your shoulders relax more and more as the conversation flowed, and it made him smile more and more. If Michael kept this up, you would be Byrce's in no time, and poor Michael wouldn't even realize what'd happened.
Meetups with Bryce soon became a part of your day, and just about the only part that you actually looked forward to. Michael was still busy as ever, unknowingly pushing you further and further.
It wasn't until Marlon had made an off handed comment that he even realized what was going on. He thought things were okay. I mean obviously they weren't great, but he hardly thought that you were slipping through his fingers.
Michael was at Hayvenhurst, floating lazily in the pool, when his brothers came out of the house. They smiled when they saw him, heads turning to look for you. Jackie flopped onto a sunchair.
"Mikey, whatchu doin here?" He gazed at his younger brother.
Michael gave him a happy sigh, "Finally gettin a moment of rest."
Marlon sat at the edge of the pool, kicking water at Michael, "Where's your girl?" He asked casually.
"She at her apartment." Michael replied. Marlon hummed in surprise. Michael looked over, now confused. "Why?"
"Just surprised, that's all." He leaned back on his hands, basking in the sun.
Michael's brows furrowed. "What for?"
"Cause we all thought she woulda left your ass by now." Marlon laughed, the others snickered behind him. "Guess not. That's a shame, cause I was ready to snatch'er up."
Michales eyes narrowed. "Why would she leave me? We're goin real steady. Have been since we started dating." He sat up more on his float, watching Marlon carefully.
Jermaine chuckled, "God help her if you actually think that. Hey Marlon maybe you should go pay her a visit and show'er how a real man should treat her."
"Alright, what're you guys talkin about? Seriously, it aint funny." He paddled over to the edge and got out of the pool.
"You're right, Mikey. It ain't funny at all. You get the day off and instead of treatin your girl you're at the god damn pool. Seriously, Mike, when was the last time you spoke to her?" Jackie spoke up.
"We talked on the phone last night!" Michael defended.
"For how long, 4 minutes?" Marlon chuckled.
"Yeah but-" Michael started to explain.
Tito cut him off, "No, Mikey, we mean really talked. I swear I haven't seen that girl here in problly 2 months."
Michaels shoulders dropped slightly, things slowly sinking in. They were right, he hadn't brought you over since the release of Thriller. And he had hardly been to your place since then too. Matter of fact he realized how much he had blown you off. All the last minute cancels and no shows. Over 2 months he had been almost fully absent from your life. The brothers laughed as they saw the realization and horror set on Michael's face.
"I gotta go." Michael dashed back inside.
Jackie's voice yelled out behind him, "You better run, boy!"
And run he did.
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You were at your apartment when the doorbell rang. You felt your heart speed up, excitement pulling at your chest. Michael had said last night that he would finally have a free day tomorrow, which was now today. You had been waiting for him the whole morning, it was now early afternoon. It had to be him, you prayed to God it was him. You flung open the door eagerly, heart sinking into your chest as you were met with Bryce's face. You were happy to see him of course, but he wasn't Michael. You appreciated his company, it was the only thing keeping you afloat in this whole mess, but it just wasn't the same. Of course Bryce knew why your face fell, you had confided in him about your frustration with everything. You had even cried on his shoulder.
He looked at you, not letting your disappointment deter him, "Oh come on, I know I'm no global superstar but you don't have to look that upset." He joked.
You smiled and stepped aside, letting him in. "Sorry, it's not that I'm not happy you're here. I was just expecting Michael today." You shut the door.
You sat down with him on the couch, leaning against the side with a tight smile. He sat beside you, too close for your own comfort. "I don't understand why you're still holding onto him so desperately." He said it gently.
"I love him." You said it simply.
There it was, this was the kind of statement Bryce was looking for. He was looking for a statement that would allow him to cast doubt in your mind. "But does he love you?"
You frowned and looked up at him, "Of course he loves me."
Bryce didn't push, because he didn't need to. The seed was planted. "Alright, well I got you something." He smiled.
You sat up more, a smile replacing your frown. "What is it?" He pulled out the record you had been raving about, the maroon album with a pale white woman with long black hair stared up at you. You gasped, "You got me the new Duran Duran album?!"
He nodded, "Sure did, maybe now you'll stop talking about it." He joked.
You smiled wide, "How did you find it? I've been looking for it since its release in May!" You examined the album.
He shrugged, "I have my ways."
You smiled and hugged him tight. "Thank you! I love it." You pulled back slightly, but his arms wrapped low around your waist. You patted his chest and carefully moved from his arms. "I'll be right back, I'm gonna go get my turntable so we can listen!" You hurried off to your room.
As you grabbed the player you heard the front door open, and Michael's familiar voice. Oh shit. You could hear the anger in his voice as he asked what Bryce was doing here. They had never gotten along. You rushed back into the living room, abandoning the turntable.
Michaels eyes snapped to you, guilt and anger swirling in his eyes. "What is he doing here?" He questioned you.
Bryce answered before you could, "I'm hanging out with her. What are you doing here, don't you have some album to promote?"
Michael's jaw tightened. "I'm here to see my girlfriend." His voice came out unusually harsh, spitting the word girlfriend at Bryce.
"Didn't realize you still thought about her that way." Bryce spat back. Both men were staring daggers at each other.
"The hell's that supposed to mean?" Michael took a step forward, hands balling into fists.
Bryce matched him, "You know exactly what it means?"
You stepped between the two of them, placing a hand on Michael's chest. "Stop it! You're both acting like idiots!"
Michael finally looked back at you, "Why is he here?"
"Because he's my friend, Michael! And we're hanging out." You gave him a tired look.
Michael's cold demeanor shifted slightly, "Why didn't you call me?"
"Oh like you would've answered her?" Bryce rolled his eyes.
Michael tensed back up, ready to start another argument. You quickly looked at Bryce. "Thank you for the record, but you should go."
He raised a brow at you. "Seriously? You're seriously gonna kick me out for someone who doesn't even give you the time of day?"
"I'm not kicking you out, I'm asking you to leave so I can talk to Michael without you provoking him." You looked at him with a frown.
He shook his head, grabbing the record and heading to the door. "Y'know what, fine. But this is fucking embarrassing for you. You're gonna let someone mistreat you and just sit there and take it? It's pathetic."
Michael whipped around, landing a clean punch to Bryce's jaw. "She asked you to leave, so get out. And don't ever speak to her like that again."
Bryce held his jaw and stormed out the door.
Michael turned his attention back to you as the door slammed. You were sitting on the couch, eyes distant. Michael sat beside you carefully.
"You okay, baby?" He reached out to put a hand on your shoulder.
You shifted away. "You don't get to call me that right now, Michael."
He swallowed hard. Seeing just how much he had neglected you shook him with guilt so bad he thought he would throw up. "I'm sorry." He whispered.
"Over 2 months, Michael." You didn't need to further explain.
He placed his head in his hands. "I know, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."
You snapped your head up at him, "And that's supposed to make it better? We haven't had a real conversation in over a week, and we haven't seen each other in over 2 months and that's what you have to say?"
"I know, I don't have any excuse other than I'm an idiot."
You teared up and looked away from him, "He's right, I am pathetic."
"Don't say that."
"Then what do I say, Michael!? Do I say that it's not pathetic to just sit there and let someone who supposedly loves you disregard you almost completely?! It is embarrassing! It's embarrassing to feel completely alone in your own relationship!" You desperately wiped your eyes.
"You're not the pathetic one- I am. It's pathetic that I couldn't even see how much I was neglecting my own girlfriend. And it's embarrassing that I ran her into the arms of another guy. There's nothing for you to be embarrassed about. And I'm sorry that I've made you feel this way- if I could turn back time I would. I never meant for it to get this out of hand. I didn't mean for things to fester this long, and I feel like an idiot for not even realizing what was going on. I promise you -if you still want me- I'll never ever treat you like that again." He grabbed your hands gently, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles.
You sniffled, "I wouldn't have run to him, ever. And... It may be stupid, but I do still want you. Plus, you're not entirely at fault. I should've said something, I could've told you how I was feeling."
"You shouldn't have had too, I should've noticed." His eyes met yours. You gave him a weak smile as he wiped away your tears. "How about I clear out my schedule for the rest of the week?"
"Michael, that's impossible." You shook your head.
"Yeah, well for you I'll make it possible." You squeezed your hand. "I know a week won't make up for the time I lost, but I want to show you that you're still my girl. You're still the one who holds my heart, and always will."
You looked up at him, eyes brightening slightly. "What if you get in trouble? What if you miss some big opportunity?"
He cupped your face. "Opportunities come and go, a girl like you comes by only once in a lifetime. And spending time making my baby feel the love she deserves is worth any kind of punishment."
You pulled him into a tight hug, practically lunging into his arms. He wrapped you up tight, holding you to his chest protectively. He breathed in your scent, letting it wash over him. God he missed you so much, it had been so long since he had held you like this, it felt like a drug. You tried to pull away but his arms were unrelenting. He pulled you into his lap, head finding it way into the crook of your neck. He realized just how touch starved he was.
"Michael, baby, you can let go now." You assured him.
"Nah, I'm good right here." He pressed a kiss to your neck.
You laughed and melted into his touch, a hand coming up to scratch his head. "I got a fish."
"A fish? Why?" His voice was muffled.
"I was lonely." You said simply.
Michael let out a distressed noise, "Oh baby, I'm sorry."
"It's okay, he's cute! I named him after my favorite Jackson." You smiled.
"Aw, you named him after me?" He pulled his face away and looked up at you.
"Nope, his name is Marlon." You laughed as his arms wrapped around you more, holding you tighter. "Oh calm down, you big baby, look at what kind of fish it is." You took his chin and turned his face towards the tank where a small clownfish swam around.
He relaxed, but kept you close. "Marlon is a clown isn't he? But I'm your favorite Jackson right?"
"Don't push it too fast, you've got 2 months to make up for."
"Well, what can I do to start making up that time?" He looked up at you with needy eyes.
You slid your hands up his chest, pulling him closer by his jacket. "I can think of a few ways..." You trailed off as you closed the small gap left between you.
He dived in, squeezing your waist as he pulled you impossibly closer.
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As promised, Michael cleared off his entire schedule. He showed up at your doorstep the next day with flowers and a signed copy of the vinyl Bryce had given and then taken.
Hungry Like a Wolf played lightly through the apartment as Michael pressed you to your mattress, easily making up for all the nights he had left you feeling touch starved.
A/N: If anyone wants to be added to the taglist, comment under this post. <3
