Pairing: Michael Jackson x Reader
Tags: #otw!michael, loser!michael x itgirl!reader, hard to get, Regina x Rodrick vibes
Summary: You finally agree to go on date with the dorky lead singer of the Jackson Five. You go into it thinking it would be a bust. But to your horror you two work really well.
an: a silly little thought that came into my head :p
The bass pulsed through the floor like a heartbeat, the beat vibrates through you. Neon colors washed through the room, painting the crowd. The DJ knew exactly what to play, easily blending hits into hits.
The air carried a mix of expensive perfumes and sweet drinks. You sat in the VIP section of the club. Your booth sat just far enough from the dance floor but still close enough to feel the warmth of the crowd.
You sat in the booth talking and giggling with your bandmates. You were in a chart topping girl group as the lead singer and the biggest diva. You couldn't help your attitude. People were annoying or stupid and most of the time both.
For a while everything was effortless. You didn't have to worry about your image or having to get up early tomorrow. The rare moment where you could just enjoy your youth. But then—
"Uh oh! Your boyfriend's here!" One of your bandmates teased.
You don't have to turn to see, to know who she was referring to. Michael had been chasing after you for months. He was in a band that was also pretty successful. He recently signed with your record label.
To some, Michael is the charismatic, cool lead singer. But to you, Michael is a complete dork who just happens to look good on stage. Offstage he talks too much, makes stupid jokes, wears questionable clothes, and gets way too excited over music equipment.
Since you run in the same circles you can't seem to shake him. Your songs are always charting simultaneously, competing for the number one spot. At award ceremonies you are always nominated in the same categories.
Where ever you went, he seemed to be. And it was no secret he had a big crush on you. Despite being a public figure, he was not careful about his image and would publicly declare his love for you.
At an after party, he came up to you.
"Are you free Friday?" he asks.
"No," you respond, quick and harsh.
Or at the rehearsal studio as your leaving, he came up to you.
"I would rather starve," you push the doors open just enough to slip through, fully intending to let it slam in his face. But before it could, he catches it and calls to you.
He'd ask you so many times that you begin to anticipate it. Each time you come up with a rather creative way to reject him. The media paints you to be a mean girl and views him as a lovestruck puppy.
The crazy part is that you were attracted to him too, but Michael violates every rule you have for yourself. He's not polished enough. He's not the kind of man you imagine yourself with in photographs. Plus his band is too loud and wild.
Michael comes over, leaning casually over your booth, looking like he's imitating Danny Zuko. You turn to him, folding your arms across your chest. Your expression hard, pulled tight as if to say leave me alone.
Which sends a ping of irritation down your spine.
"Go out with me," he says straight up.
"No." you roll your eyes and turn back to your girls.
"Just one date," he pleas.
You close your eyes, suck in a breath, then turn to face him. You were about to say something mean but an idea pops in your mind. You look around. Your girls are here, his brothers too, and other artists from your label.
You realize you have an audience. A nasty smile twists across your face.
"Fine. Strip down to your underwear right here then run around the club, and I'll go out with you." you say.
Everyone goes silent with anticipation. Even Michael's smile drops.
"Seriously?" he asks, his voice a soft whisper.
Before you can process what's happening, Michael starts taking off his jacket. Your smile drops.
"Michael!" you say, shooting out of your seat.
His brothers are screaming with laughter, pointing and snapping photos. Your group is losing their minds. Mouths open in disbelief. As he continues to strip, a sudden realization hits you.
You've made a catastrophic mistake because this man has no shame whatsoever.
Michael stands before you in his underwear, arms out like, Well? Then he runs around the club just like you said. You watch in horror as he does. Your body shakes as laughter rips through you, and it's not because he's hilarious.
Eventually he makes it through the crowd, he comes back to your booth huffing and with a random lip stick mark on his chest.
"I'll pick you up Friday," he says while putting his pants back on
"I never said you could pick me up," you snap, reality finally sinking in.
"But you did say yes, though," he beams.
All you can do is stare at him because that was the first time he beat you at your own game.
The next Friday comes quicker than you expected it too. Today was the day of your date with Michael. He never told you where the date was so you dressed how you usually did. A pink dress with pink pumps to match, and diamonds dripping from your neck, ears, and wrists.
Michael pulls into the driveway of your house, thankfully in a nice car.
He jumps out to greet you.
"You look beautiful," he says breathlessly, opening the car door for you.
You look around the car. He has signed copies of his albums and boxes of toys sprayed across his backseat.
You sit in the car, silently waiting for him to drive off.
Michael sits behind the wheel, fingers tapping against the wheel.
"Is the date in my driveway or?" you break the silence.
"R-Right," he turns the key and finally drives off.
You find it cute that he's nervous.
What you don't find cute is the place he takes you. You pull into the boardwalk. It's crowded and the parking is terrible. You get out the car without waiting for him to open the door.
"I'm only here because you embarrassed yourself," you remind him.
You silently huff because he was right. As you pass the arcade Michael comes to an abrupt stop. You look over at him, neon lights flash across his face, washing him in blues and pinks. A chippy melody drifted out every time the door opened.
"No," you shake your head.
Michael looks at you, his smile only widening.
"I didn't even say anything," he says.
"You don't have to. My answer is no."
Before you can protest, his fingers slip into your hand and he tugs you toward the door. You yell his name but he ignores you. You let yourself be dragged inside, telling yourself it was better than causing a scene.
His hand was warm. A strange small spark raced up your arm where his hand touched yours. You quickly pulled your hand free the second you were inside.
The arcade buzzed. Neon lights flashed, electronic music played, and teens chatted. Michael looks like he walked into paradise.
"Whoa..look at that," he pointed toward the prize counter where a giant blow up guitar hung above rows of prizes.
You followed his finger before rolling your eyes.
"Don't even think about it."
"I wasn't," he looks at you, his grin so wide it took up half his face.
This was ridiculous. He looked...ridiculously cute.
You hate the fact the thought even crossed your mind. Michael and cute were two things you never put together in your mind ever.
He grabs a hand full of game tokens and marched straight toward a dance machine.
"Nope." you cross your arms.
"You're just scared I'll beat you," he cooly says.
His challenge wakens your competitive side. You sit your purse down, determination in your eyes and join him on the dance pad.
However when the music started, regret tasted sour in your mouth. Michael moved effortlessly. Hitting the right tiles at the perfect moment, even hitting them before it showed up on the screen. He laughed every time you missed a step.
Thankfully, air hockey restored the balance in the universe. The puck ricocheted off the side wall before you struck it right into his goal. The buzzer blared.
"Yes!" you threw both fists into the air before you could stop yourself.
"You cheated," he claims.
"Did not," you respond back, doing a little dance in his face.
"You did. I saw it," he huffs.
"What you saw was yourself lose babe," you say before collecting your tickets.
Eventually your tokens run out, you two leave the arcade with sore feet.
"And then I beat you," you remind him for what had to be the fourth time. Each time felt better than the last.
"You beat me once," he chides, clearly over it.
"So what? I beat you," you say in a sing song way.
He just shakes his head because there's no getting past you.
You laugh. It was loud and unfiltered. The sound came somewhere deep in your stomach which startled you. You immediately settle your smile back into the pressed line it usually was. You straighten your back, slipping back into the careful version of yourself.
"This is a horrible date," you announced, desperate to bring your usual sass back.
"I'm having fun," Michael answers with a smile, he gently bumps into your shoulder.
Of course he was. You sigh dramatically and continued down the boardwalk. The scent of fried food drifted through the air.
It smelt like grease, salt, and sugar.
You wrinkled your nose, "It smells terrible."
"Smells amazing," Michael corrected.
Minutes later he returned carrying a basket of chicken tenders and fries.
"You want some?" he offers.
"No. Way too greasy," you decline.
He shrugged and popped one into his mouth. Without thinking, you reach into the basket and steal a fry. He looks down at his food then back to you with a smirk. He doesn't question you. He just allows you to eat all his fries.
After the quick snack, you approach the wooden tracks of a roller coaster.
"No." you say, your stomach churns from looking at it, hearing the screams.
"It''ll be fun," Michael tries to convince you.
"It'll ruin my hair," you complain.
"I think your hair will recover."
Somehow, despite your every protest, fight, and plea, you found yourself buckled into the cart beside him.
The chain pulls you slowly toward the top.
You grabbed his arm, shoving your head into his shoulder. He looked down at your hand, but wisely said nothing.
Then the cart tipped over the edge. A full, life flashing before your eyes, scream rips from your throat. Your eyes grow wide with terror as you see the ground rush towards you, wind whistling in your ears.
Michael laughed the entire way down. You always knew he was crazy.
Finally the cart rolled back to the station. The second your feet hit solid ground, you shoved him in the shoulder.
"If you ever tell anyone I screamed like that, I will personally end your career," you threaten.
"Yes ma'am," he says, holding a hand over his heart.
You huffed and marched ahead, your heels clicking sharply against wooden planks. After a minute, you found an empty bench overlooking the water and sat down.
You glance beside you. Michael was gone. You release a slow breath.
Finally! Maybe he'd come to his senses about this disastrous date. Maybe he—
You looked up to find him jogging toward you. In his hands was an enormous pink bunny with floppy ears and crooked button eyes.
"Got you something," he held it out proudly.
"...It's ugly," your lips curl downward.
You take the bunny anyways.
The afternoon slipped by easier than you cared to admit. Somewhere between the arcade, the insane roller coaster, and the light conversation, Michael had become...
Well—he became less annoying. Not not annoying. Just tolerable.
You still couldn't imagine taking him serious. He was still a dork. This wasn't the beginning of anything. It couldn't be. You won't let that happen.
"This changes nothing," you informed him for the third time that afternoon.
You narrow your eyes at him.
"Want some ice cream?" he asks.
You blink. "Did you even hear what I said?"
"Yup," he says, slipping his hand into yours. He got more confident doing it, it was like his third time doing so.
He tugs you toward an ice cream stand.
"And?" you say, letting him tug you.
"You said this changes nothing. What flavor do you want?"
There he goes again. It irked you that he could sidestep every wall or insult you threw at him. He never argued with you. Never tried to convince you otherwise. He just accepted whatever you said.
A little later, Michael stops walking.
Before you could ask why, Michael pulls a small camera from his pocket.
"What are you doing?" you ask, crossing your arms.
"I always look nice," you say, flipping your hair.
He turns the camera toward you with a proud smile. The photo was awful. The wind had blown a strand of hair across your face, your eyes were half closed from rolling them at him.
"I look awful," you tell him.
"I thought you said you always looked nice," he chirps.
"Okay." He deletes it immediately. No teasing or bargaining, not even a dramatic sigh.
For some reason, that disappoints you. You had been fully prepared to wrestle the camera out his hands and chuck it into the water.
Soon enough the afternoon faded into a cool evening. The sky softens with streaks of orange and pink as the sun slowly melted into the ocean.
People drift to the rides as neon lights illuminate the boardwalk.
Michael looked ahead. You followed his gaze.
It turned lazily against the sunset
"We should go on it," he suggests.
His eyes lock back on you.
"I just don't want to..."
"Okay," he accepts your answer so easily that it makes you feel bad.
Your eyes drift back toward the spinning wheel. Each carriage slowly climbing high before disappearing over the top. The sight makes your chest tighten.
"You don't like heights," Michael says more like a statement than a guess.
"I'm not scared," your head snapped toward him.
"I just don't like them," you huff, folding your arms.
He didn't tease you nor call you dramatic. He just shoved his hands into is pockets and continued walking.
You made your mind up. You march toward the stupid thing, still carrying your bunny.
"Wait where are you going? We don't have to ride it," he calls from behind you.
You pull him by the wrist since he can't seem to understand. You wanted to just get this over with so you can end this date and go home.
The line moves quicker than you expected, a few minutes later the two of you settle into a swaying carriage.
Your fingers curled tightly around the edge of the seat. The wheel lurched, slowly it began to climb.
You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to lull the panic that clings to your stomach. The sounds of the boardwalk drift farther and farther away as up climb upward.
Something warm brushes against your hand. You look down. Michael's hand rests beside yours.
When you look up, his eyes were already on you. You meet soft brown eyes and a crooked smile. He looked like a complete dork.
"Don't say anything," you mumble.
"I won't," he says, voice sincere.
You stare at him. Who was this guy?
You had rolled your eyes at him. Insulted him. Tried to embarrass him front of everyone. But it never deterred him. Rejection after rejection he still showed up in your face smiling.
Your gaze lingered on his face. Studying him. You notice the way his eyes crinkle when he smiled. His hair in soft curls that fell before his forehead. Even his voice. it was warm. Like a childhood blanket.
The carriage jolted a little, causing your entire body to tense.
"It's okay," he says. "We just reached the top."
He points toward the horizon. You turn your head slowly following it.
The ocean stretched what looked like endlessly. The sun hovers just above the water, spilling gold across rippling waves. A flock of birds cut across the sky.
"Wow...that's pretty," your words come out quieter than you intend. You couldn't remember the last time you stopped long enough to admire a sunset. Not with your fast life style of being a pop star.
"Yeah...real pretty," Michael whispered.
Something about the way he said it made butterflies erupt in your stomach and your cheeks warm.
Suddenly the Ferris wheel didn't feel as high. The carriage swayed gently.
You turn your head, and his eyes catch yours. It's like a magnet, an invisible force pulling you toward him. You sworn you would never be with a guy like him or even just him. But yet, as you sit in this space with him your heart quickens.
The inches of space between you feels like a canyon. Something in you yearns to be closer to him, like a sudden hunger which flares inside you, demanding he be closer. You lean toward him, and as if he feels it to, Michael mirrors you.
His hands drift upward, slow and hesitantly until his hands cup the sides of your face. The warmth of his hands make you melt, eyes fluttering shut at the tenderness. He pulls you closer, your lips ghost each other.
Every part of your brain is screaming for you to pull away. You know you shouldn't be feeling this nor allowing it. You fight the sudden overwhelming urge to run. You open your eyes to find him searching yours. He looks for any sign of hesitation, any flicker of doubt.
Despite everything, he finds none.
Michael kisses you. It's soft. Just a press of lips, tentative and sweet. He's careful, giving you every opportunity to retreat. He takes nothing more than you are willing to offer him.
Then, he pulls away first.
"Sorry," he whispers, his voice barely audible.
He has no idea what that small taste did to you. The way he showed restraint only makes the fire burning inside you burn hotter. Against your better judgment, you stand in the small car, then straddle his lap. You place one hand on his shoulder, then slide the other to the crook of his neck, pinning him beneath you.
Michael looks up at you with shimmering eyes, staring at you as if you hung the stars in the sky.
You dive back in, kissing him deeper this time. You open your mouth, inviting him in, demanding more. He slides his hands down to your hips, his fingers digging in, pulling you flush against him.
The kiss remains slow and tasteful despite the heat incinerating your composure. He gasps into your mouth, and you drink it up. The wet sound of your lips smacking echoes in the quiet car. Despite his dorkiness, Michael is an incredible kisser you realize. It makes your perception of him shift a little.
A sudden jolt snaps you back to reality as the Ferris wheel begins to move again.
"Uhhh," you stammer. You scurry off his lap, smoothing your dress.
Michael remains seated, a dazed goofy smile plastered over his face. He looks drunk.
"This changes nothing!" you declare, though your voice lacks edge and your cheeks burn incredibly hot.
The rest of the ride is a blur of awkward glances and a heart beat that rings loudly in your ears. Once you hit the ground, you practically run toward his car. The drive home is quiet, but the air in the car is charged.
When he reaches your house, he walks you to the door.
"Thanks for coming with me today," Michael says, his voice steady and gentle.
"I had no choice," you retort, though the bite is gone.
"I had a lot of fun," he tells you softly.
"Some parts were fun," you admit, glancing away.
He chuckles. It's low and warm, it echoes straight to your heart.
You look at him. Like really look at him and wonder when he became so cute.
"Well, have a good night?" he says.
Michael takes a small step forward and presses a soft kiss to your cheek before skipping down the steps and into his car.
You stand there on the porch long after his taillights have disappeared in the night. Your heart beats uncomfortably fast, thumping against your ribs like a trapped bird.
You are utterly dumbfounded that you actually enjoyed the date...and a terrifying realization washes over you.
That you wouldn't mind another...
