Michael Jackson x Fem!Reader
Summary: Reflecting on your childhood, how you met Michael and your first date
You were standing in the kitchen, lost in a trance of staring down at your untouched mug of tea. The steam left which caused it to became dull and cold.
The memory kept replaying in your head, causing you to smile, "we're going to be parents." You placed your hand over your stomach, although there was no bump. It didn't feel real yet - the whole situation. That was the strangest part.
The whole of yesterday felt like a blur with Michael repeating, "we're going to have a baby," in absolute awe. He took the whole day off from recording, wanting to only be with you. It was mostly spent with catching up on sleep which you didn't mind.
You think ahead to your pregnancy journey, knowing it won't be easy, but being supported by Michael, his family and your friends will help you get through it.
You begin to reflect on your own childhood and how different it will be to your baby's. Remembering the foster parents you were passed to.
It all started with your unstable mother and how she would leave you alone at home whilst she went out and partied with strange men - vividly picturing the times she would bring them home and introduce them to you. You laugh at the recalled image of their faces once realising the woman they were with had a child.
Your mother contributed to a cycle of abuse; the violent treatment she received from her mother was carried out onto you. You had a father who was predominantly absent, but when he was home, he would beat your mother after finding out she was with other men. Quite hypocritical since he would always flirt with other women.
Your father would always call you his "princess", erupting jealousy within your mother that he loves you more than her. This caused you to hate being at home, always locking yourself in a small closet as a means of escape from the screaming, arguing and hitting from your parents.
Eventually, your father was arrested and charged with a few years in prison after being involved in a fight. You thought this would bring relief to your mother as she was finally free from him, but it was quite the opposite. She directed her anger at you, labelling you as a burden and a slut.
The biggest mistake she could have made was hitting you in public. You were only 7-years-old. As a result, witnesses alerted CPS and took you away from her. Your mother began acting as if they were doing her a favour but soon realised that she would do anything to get you back. She screamed and cried when she saw the image of you being taken into the backseat of a social worker's car to never see her again.
You were too young to understand what was even happening. Everything was moving so quickly. You thought it was something temporary, perhaps a holiday as you were taken to a house much larger than yours. The only belonging you had was a small teddy bear you never named however, collecting your belongings didn't seem necessary as the place had everything you could have ever wanted.
The social worker said something to you which you didn't even process after the confusing events. A woman whose name you cant remember took you in. She provided a delicious meal and even bought you an ice cream from a truck which parked outside. She gave you a bath later that day and handed a set of bed clothes after drying you with a towel.
You had a huge bed to yourself and a TV in your room. Your parents never paid for the TV bill so you took advantage of watching anything you could find. And even though you didn't understand the premise or adult humour behind the shows, you felt secure for the first time in your life.
However, it was short-lived when you woke up to the lady who took care of you saying goodbye and the social worker taking you back into her car.
From here, you lived in a series of foster homes and met many families. Some made lasting impressions which made you wish they could adopt you and some made you glad to leave them.
You recalled a miserable woman who looked after you - a large lady. She ordered you and the other foster kids to refer to her as Madam; you never knew her real name. If someone misbehaved, her punishment was to sit on them and watch them squirm with an amused smile which imitated a Disney villain on her face.
She was the last foster parent to look after you. Being with her for almost 3 years felt long and dreadful. It was as if you ended up in hell. Just thinking about it made you break out into an uncomfortable shudder. Living with her caused you to become quiet at home and in school; people assumed you were mute.
You thought back to the other kids you lived with, wondering what they're doing with their lives now, wishing you could reconnect with one another.
Eventually, after turning 18, you were legally old enough to look after yourself. Your first priority, above anything else, was to look for somewhere to stay. If anyone offered Madam's home for a little longer until you found your pathway, you would have immediately rejected it.
Instead, you confided in your friend - Huda. She was the only person you spoke to and had trust in. Meeting her in your high school English class, the two of you instantly became close after finding out your shared experiences in foster care.
She was practically born into the system after her drug addicted parents abandoned her. She lived with the same family for over 10 years and couldn't wait to get out - a promiscuous mother and father who constantly fought as well as two perverted sons.
You made a pact with her to gather all of the money you saved and invest it into renting an apartment together. You planned to get jobs and live the rest of your lives as sisters. You stayed loyal to this and waited the next few months for Huda to turn 18 herself.
Meanwhile, you continued with the job you had since 16 as a CNA. You were transferred to work in different hospitals and an array of wards. Your favourite was the paediatric ward, it healed something within you, taking care of kids the same you wanted to be treated as a child. It instilled a protective instinct over you – these kids have already suffered so much you just wanted to keep them safe.
3 months later, Huda turned 18, she left her foster home without a second thought and worked 2 jobs in retail clothing shops.
The two of you managed to generate a stable income, allowing you to move out of the murky motel you were living in and start renting an apartment.
It wasn't anything special or fancy, but a complete upgrade from your previous living conditions which had mould and inconsiderate neighbours.
You're brought back to reality when Michael placed a hand over your shoulder. You gasped and turned around as if it was a horror film, immediately calming down after realising it was just him.
You laugh quietly, almost out of breath, "you scared me."
"You were overthinking again," he acknowledged, putting both hands on your shoulders to provide a massage to release some pent-up tension.
You shook your head, "just reminiscing."
"My parents," you paused before smiling again at the event, "and meeting you."
"Please don't compare me to them," he recalled the horror stories you told him about them.
"The day was awful," you teased, pretending to act sad at the thought of it.
"Haha," he faked a laugh, unimpressed. You make him feel better by wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning in to peck his lips.
You pull back to find a smile on his face at the contact. He resumed the kiss by pulling you back into him so your chest is aligned with his. It was a lot deeper and hungry than the last one; you felt his teeth against your lips at times.
"Remind me how we met," he was standing over you, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, your eyes closed at the gentle caress against your skin.
You thought back to that day which happened over a year ago. It was supposed to be an ordinary day. Same shift. Same routine you built for the last 10 years working as a CNA; you were 28 at this point.
Working in the paediatric ward, someone called in soft voice, "excuse me." Your steps paused and caused you to turn slightly at the gentle and undemanding tone.
And there he was. You recognised him but not all at once. Not in the overwhelming way he was used to everyone else would.
"Oh..." you said in quiet surprise, "hi."
He looked careful, "I don't want to interrupt...I was just wondering if she's comfortable." He gestured lightly towards a room behind him; the child was sleeping.
You've heard about him visiting sick kids in hospitals, hoping he could make their suffering feel a lot lighter. You just never thought for a moment you would find him where you worked.
Regardless, you nodded and stepped past him to check. "She's resting," you said after a moment, "her vitals are stable."
Relief softened on his face instantly, "thank you." You gave a small nod accompanied by a smile.
And that should've been it.
Just another interaction.
Another moment that passed.
As you turned to leave, you felt it, his gaze lingering. It didn't feel intense or invasive. Just noticing.
A few days later, he came back. You weren't surprised, people always came back. But this felt different. He found you again.
There was a brief pause before he spoke up again, "you're very kind."
Your brows pulled together slightly, "I'm just doing my job."
"I know," he said, "but not everyone does it like you do."
You didn't know what to do in that moment except say, "thank you." Quite awkwardly. He just stood there, not filling the silence, although it wasn’t uncomfortable.
That's when you noticed Huda standing in complete shock by the door, behind him, holding lunch for the two of you.
You decided to introduce them to each other, "this is my friend," you walked towards her as an unspoken signal to walk in. "Her name's Huda. And this is Michael."
"Nice to meet you," he extended his hand to shake hers. Hesitantly, she held out her hand and stiffly shook his.
Still stunned, she managed to peep out a "likewise."
"I'll leave you to your lunch," he didn't want to impose any longer, "I'll see you around."
"Yeah," you grasped that he wanted to speak more to you, but the circumstances prevented it, "see you."
Once he left through the door, Huda's eyes shot back to yours, "you know who that is, right?"
"Of course," you shook your head slightly at her question; everyone knew who he was.
"And you're just acting normal?"
"No," she scoffed, "you're weirdly calm."
Your flashback flickered to when Michael first asked you out. It wasn't an extravagant moment, but it holds a special place in your heart.
You were finishing your shift, signing off paperwork, already halfway home in your head when you noticed him standing a little further away in the hallway.
You paused, noticing the way he didn't approach you, just waiting as if he was in separate minds about walking up to you.
You paused before asking softly, "you're still here?"
He smiled slightly as if this was a sign from above to walk towards you, "yeah, I didn't want to interrupt you earlier."
You shook your head reassuringly, "you didn't."
He shifted his weight slightly, "I was wondering something." There was a small pause after realising all of your attention was on him.
He hesitated - just enough to show he was thinking it through, "would you maybe...want to get something to eat sometime?"
Your brain didn't catch up straight away, "with you?" You asked before you could even stop yourself.
He let out a soft breath, almost like a quiet laugh, "yeah...with me."
You stared at him for a second, "I don't usually do that."
He rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous manner. "You don't have to say yes," he adds quickly, "I just thought-"
"I'd love to," you cut in, scared you gave the wrong impression with how awkward you came off.
Later that day, sitting in the living room of your apartment with Huda, she knew before you even said anything. She somehow always did.
"You're acting weird," she observed, leaning against the armrest of the sofa.
You didn't respond. That was enough.
She narrowed her eyes, "...who is he?" You remained silent. "Oh my God, there is a he."
"It's not like that," you tried to deflect the conversation.
"It's always like that," she teased with a cheeky grin.
You sighed, knowing there was no way out, "he just asked me to get some food with him."
"Who?" She pressed, completely invested.
Huda just stared at you, "I'm not stupid."
There was a pause as you pressed your lips together then quietly said, "...it's Michael."
There was another moment of silence as Huda blinked once and then twice, "Michael as in Michael Jackson?"
You nodded slightly and laughed at her dumb expression, "I knew you were going to react like this."
"Because it's not normal," she whisper-shouted, "one does not just casually go out for food with Michael Jackson."
You made a plan with Michael for him to take you out a few days later. Huda insisted on meeting him, "just once. For safety reasons." You didn't argue.
When he did arrive, he was polite and soft spoken, exactly how you knew him.
Huda, on the other hand, was analysing everything. "Hi," she said, crossing her arms.
You closed your eyes briefly, cringing, "Huda-"
"What?" She said as if it was normal, "I had to check."
Michael smiled faintly and reassured, "I get that a lot."
Huda studied him for another second before concluding, "you seem nice."
"I try to be," he smiled at her analysis.
She leaned towards him to whisper as quietly as she could, but you still heard, "if you hurt her, I will actually ruin your life."
"Huda..." you sigh in embarrassment at her threat.
Michael didn't even flinch, just nodded, "that's fair." That's the moment Huda softened - just slightly.
After passing her inspection, he focused his attention on you, "you look beautiful."
You bought a new dress just for the occasion, wanting to impress him, "thank you. You look really nice yourself." You felt awkward giving a compliment since you've never said it to a man before.
"These are for you," he held up a bouquet of roses.
"Thank you," you took them and held it against your nose to smell them, "they're beautiful." Huda smiled at the sight - already feeling like she's third wheeling.
"We should get going," Michael walked back towards the door and held it open for you, "I reserved a table and they might give it away if we don't get there in time."
"You're Michael Jackson," Huda pointed out the obvious, "I'm sure a restaurant would kick their other customers out if it meant you got to get a table."
You laughed at what she said but went through the door anyway in case your table did end up being given to another couple.
The restaurant he chose was quiet, not loud at all, or crowded, or overwhelming. Instead, it was tucked away. Soft lighting and slow music. The kind of place where no-one looked twice.
You noticed this immediately, "you planned this very well."
"A little," he admitted, covering his smile with the back of his hand.
You sat across from each other, the atmosphere felt intimate but safe. Perfect for a high profile celebrity and his date. You opened the menu to take a look at the food options, noticing how expensive everything was.
"Dinner's on me," he seemed to have read your mind, "it's what a gentleman would do." Regardless of his reassurance, you remained conscious of what you ordered.
The waitress came over to your table, she seemed young, you assumed she was entering her earlier twenties. You could evidently see the tiny shift in her face once recognition clicked who was sitting before her.
"Oh...hi," she said, trying to stay composed, but you noticed a brightness to her, "are you ready to order?"
Michael smiled politely, "please can I have the lobster ravioli?"
You nodded slightly, "me too please."
"Can I get you anything to drink?" She wore a wide smile.
"Water is fine, thank you," Michael answered and you asked for the same.
The waitress lingered longer than necessary. "Of course," she said, "I'll be right back with your drinks."
You watched her walk away. You looked back at Michael who seemed to have not noticed anything. Of course he hasn't. He must experience this all the time. He's probably used to it.
"How is work?" He started to make small conversation.
"Surviving," you joked with a deadpan face, causing him to break into a smile. Your job was exhausting, rewarding, but still strenuous.
"How's your work going?" You smiled back at him.
"I'm thinking of working on a new album," he admitted which made your eyes widen in surprise.
"You trust me with that information?"
"Is there a reason why I shouldn't?" He released a quiet laugh.
"No," you pressed your lips together to prevent an eager smile. He already trusted you?
When the waitress returned, she was softer. Leaning closer to the table, she ensured her bust was in Michael's line of sight. Her attention focused solely on him.
"So," she begins, voicing a sultry tone, "are you just visiting this part of LA or...?"
She placed the glasses down.
Michael answered kindly, like he always does, "it's not too far from where I live."
You stayed quiet, listening, watching. The waitress laughed at Michael's words - it wasn't supposed to even be funny. She twirled her finger around a piece of her hair, gradually moving it over her face to hide how flustered she was - failing terribly at it.
Your fingers tightened around your glass. Why is she laughing like that?
Michael glanced briefly at you. "Are you okay?" He asked softly.
You nod quickly, "yeah." Too quick. He notices something is wrong, but he doesn't push.
You know what it is. Feeling it build slowly inside of you. It isn't anger. Or even jealousy. It's something uncomfortable and you don't even recognise it completely.
You question yourself, why do you care? It's your first date. You shouldn't be feeling this way for someone you just met. But you do.
"If you need anything at all, just let me know," the waitress winked and walked away, emphasising the sway of her hips.
You finally look up properly. It wasn't confrontational...just present. A quiet reminder that you're his date. That his attention should be on you.
Michael nods politely, "thank you." Then, instinctively, he turns to you. "And you?" He asks, "are you alright?"
His focus on you changes everything. It seems natural and easy as if it never left. You blinked, "...yeah." The feeling in your chest softens.
The waitress notices too which caused her to straighten slightly, "alright, I'll leave you both to it." And this time, she actually does.
You exhale quietly, not realising that you were holding it. Michael tilted his head before speaking gently, "you're very quiet."
"I know," you tense slightly at his observation, "I'm sorry."
"I don't mind it," he added reassuringly. This surprised you since most people did. You felt secure, for the first time in your life, and it was around him.
He never interrupted or rushed you. He carried a calming aura which allowed you to feel like you could let your guard down.
You've heard his interviews and you couldn't understand how Michael managed to become so composed after the unfortunate childhood he endured.
You coped through yours by staying quiet, the habit never left as you entered your adult years, you wanted to learn more about him.
The dinner continued smoothly. He constantly checked up on you to make sure you were okay and enjoying yourself.
"I used to talk more," you reiterated.
"What happened?" He didn't want to come across as if he was forcing you to speak about certain topics you may be sensitive to.
"Long story," you released a tired laugh, not wanting to spoil the first date with a trauma dump. He accepted the answer, not wanting to push you to say something you're not comfortable with.
After finishing your meal and Michael paying the cheque, he opened the door of his car for you to step into before reaching his side and starting it.
He turned on the radio which consisted mostly of his songs. He began humming to it which made you laugh. "So vain," you rolled your eyes sarcastically which made him smile too.
Once arriving outside your apartment and finding a place to park, he opened your door once again, like a gentleman, and walked you inside to ensure you got in safely.
"I had a good time," he said, once reaching your door.
You looked down at the floor, flustered, "me too."
There was short pause before he asked softly, "can I see you again?"
There was no hesitation behind your answer, "yes."
"So that's how it went," you're back in the present with Michael's playful tone, reflecting how the two of you met.
"And the rest is history," you conclude the tale, "they lived happily ever after."
"With twelve kids," he added with a smile.
You laugh at the idea and slightly nod approvingly, "sure."
He read the clock behind you, it was 2am, "it's late, we should go to bed."
"I didn't get to finish my tea," you look down at your mug on the table - it's concerningly cold after being left untouched.
"I'll make you a new one," he patted the small of your back and walked towards the kettle to place it on the stove to boil, "you should rest. Keep the bed warm for me."
"Okay," you smiled; you weren't going to argue with that instruction.
Walking up the flight of stairs towards the room you share with Michael, you sat on the comfy bed and took off your slippers to properly get under the covers.
You were lying on your back, staring at the ceiling, your hand over your stomach and rubbing it gently.
A few minutes later, Michael walked in holding a mug to which you were right to assume was your tea. You sat up to accept it and take a sip, "you make nice tea."
"Thank you," he kissed your forehead before sitting beside you.
You watch him pull the duvet up to cover the two of you properly, "you're annoyingly good at everything."
"That's not true," he shook his head but couldn't help his smile from forming, "I can't cook and you're an amazing chef."
"Yes you can," you furrowed your brows, "you don't have to pretend just to make me feel better." You've found him cooking before, particularly comfort foods like French toast.
"I like this length on you," you changed the subject, brushing your hand through his hair; it was a lot shorter than he usually had it, "you look sexy."
He became flustered and hid his face in your neck. "Don't say stuff like that," he sounded muffled.
"Why?" You couldn't stop laughing at his shy reaction.
He managed to move his head up to look at you, your faces right across from each other, he pressed his lips hurriedly against yours. Moving on top of you, he deepened the kiss, causing you both to release low moans and grunts.
A/N: Dw smut will be coming very soon!!
