thriller era! mj x popular artist! female reader (romance, fluff, comedy, love at first sight trope, 2000s chick flick type plot)
How Could I Go On Without You
mj x wife! reader (death, grief, angst, no comfort)
She’s Out of My Life (sequel)
off the wall — thriller era! mj x childhood friend! female reader (romance, angst, childhood friends & first love trope, HANDLES SENSITIVE TOPICS)
Another Part of Me (Extra)
(REQUESTED)
thrad/captain eo era! mj x controversial alt rock artist! female reader (romance, fluff, comedy, HANDLES SENSITIVE TOPICS)
Honeybee
COMING SOON (REQUESTED)
off the wall era! mj x best friend! female reader (romance, fluff)
We Are The World
(REQUESTED)
post-thriller era! mj x secret wife! popular artist! female reader (romance, comedy, fluff)
Butterflies
COMING SOON (REQUESTED)
pre-invincible era! mj x wife! female reader (romance, fluff)
Who’s Loving You (sequel)
(REQUESTED)
history era! mj x wife! female reader (angst in part 1 & 2, comfort in part 2, HANDLES SENSITIVE TOPICS)
Tender Love & Care
(REQUESTED)
bad era! mj x female reader (angst, lots of comfort, romance, HANDLES SENSITIVE TOPICS)
This Place Hotel
COMING SOON (REQUESTED)
jackson 5 era! mj x female reader [also sigmund esco ‘jackie’ jackson x female reader…up to your interpretation though 😂] (angst, one sided love trope, comfort, fluff, romance)
Drabbles:
you and mj messing up the kiss scene in the way you make me feel mv
About Me:
My name is Tink! ✨ (She/her)
I’m an 18 year old writer, mega fan of MJ! ❤️ I’ve been a soldier of love/moonwalker for 10 consecutive years. I’m a blasian woman (half african-american & half filipino), a november scorpio, and currently in college 🫶
I started to write and read fanfiction because it’s fun and I love to learn the english language and grammar this way! 😊
I love all of you so much, especially your love and support means more than anything to me 🥺
I write for female/male/gender neutral readers 🫶 I only write MJ fics for now, and maybe forever 😆
My requests are open!
I do romance & platonic scenarios, fluff, angst, comedy 🤩
I don’t do nsfw, or any large age gap requests.
That’s all about me! I love you guys so much, remember — Love is our message ❤️
Ur one of the few mj authors who dont do nsfw 🤏🏻 honestly I feel very uncomfortable with the amount of nsfw in the fandom likeeee MJ wouldn’t like thatt 🤦🏼♀️🤷🏼♀️ can I also be 🌻 anon??
I don’t do nsfw because I am asexual. I can say and appreciate Michael’s sexiness but truly, I just can’t write nsfw for the life of me. I just can’t resonate with my writing when I do.
I have all the love in my heart that goes out to the nsfw writers. I think MJ would like them 😂
He was wayyy freakier than you think, and he knew what he was doin’—the famous gold pants, ripping his shirt for the fanss, the time he wanted to put a hose in his pants so that he can douse his girls in the audience in smoke or something 😂😆 and many more examples that would be too long to list. 😅
I don’t read nsfw fanfiction. But, I really appreciate the writers—often than not, they’re incredibly kind, talented, perspective and immensely passionate about their love for Michael ❤️😊
I love all writers of MJ, because in their words and writings, you can really feel how much they love him. It’s so sweet! I love the fandom so much ❤️❤️❤️ Such beautiful people embracing him with their works.
Also, I don’t really know what 🌻 anon means but ok…? 😅 Sorry 😂
history era! michael jackson x wife! female reader
summary. it is now 1997, he comes back home — only to see that his home with you is no longer one. everything’s changed, and he doesn’t understand.
content warning: toxic behavior in relationship (avoidance & neglect), angst — with comfort.
tags: angst to comfort, fluff, romance.
taglist: @thsureya120, @shamonemjshamone
Part 1 here
———————
The day Michael met you was like any other night back in the mid-late 80s. It was warm, beautiful, and electrifying.
The jazz music played slowly in the background as he walked through the crowd of people — greeting and flashing people that million dollar smile he had.
Long before the tours, the tabloids, and the name Jackson belonging to you too…
You had simply just been another young woman who was invited to an industry party, you worked as a stylist for some celebrities.
You browsed the bookshelves and picked out a book, curious as you started to read whilst the people around you conversed about magazines and literature.
Suddenly, you felt someone bump into you, making your book fall.
“Sorry!” A soft-spoken voice gasped out.
You knelt down and picked up when a bedazzled gloved hand reached out too.
He immediately pulled back, and you looked up at him.
“…Michael Jackson?” You said, a bit surprised to have bumped into him.
Michael stared at your face, ingraining it into his memories.
His cheeks flushed up adorably when you smiled at him staring.
Out of all the days he could forget his sunglasses…
“You…know me?” He asked, shy — picking up the book you dropped.
You laughed a little at that. “Who doesn’t know you?”
“A-Ah…right.” He also laughed out, a bit embarrassed. His gaze moved around everywhere but to your eyes. He then gulped and looked back at you.
“What’s your name?” Michael’s voice almost cracked and he almost prayed that the ground would’ve swallowed him.
“(Name) (Last).” You said with an easy smile.
He stared at you, he slowly smiled, biting his lower lip. “Beautiful.”
“Huh?”
“I—I mean your name! Your name is very beautiful…”
You had an amused look on your face that made him feel so flustered that he hoped that he just didn’t look like a tomato.
One of your friends then called out to you, holding up drinks. You smiled back at Michael, waving your hand.
“Well, it was nice to meet you.” You said as you walked forward, you then gently patted his arm. He could’ve melted right there.
“See you around, Mr. Jackson.” You casually said with the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen.
His eyes trailed your figure and memorized the back of your head as you walked away to your friends, disappearing in the crowd.
He smiled to himself, still holding the book you were reading—grasping it to his thumping chest.
———————
The next party you went to—
Coincidentally…or perhaps very much on purpose—he bumped into you again.
Well, “accidentally” is what Michael would tell anyone who asked in the years after, trying to look cool.
But truly, he had spent nearly twenty minutes asking around if you had been invited.
“Is she here now?”
“Mike, you done asked me for the 5th time…she’s coming!” Quincy sighed out, shaking his head with a huff and a smile.
“Sorry…” Michael said sheepishly.
…
“Do you know what time?”
“Michael, I’m going to smack you silly I swear to baby Jesus and the grown one too—“
Another ten fixing his curls in the mirror.
Five convincing himself not to leave before you arrived.
And when he finally spotted you across the room…
He walked in your direction—then very dramatically pretended to be looking somewhere else before lightly colliding into your shoulder.
“Oh! Sorry…Michael?” You said, looking up immediately from where you were looking.
He blinked, keeping a straight face, acting cool. “Fancy seeing you here, Ms. (Last).”
You stared at him, mildly amused and trying not to laugh as you didn’t buy his facade. He sweated a little, his cheeks growing red but he kept his composure.
“Yes…very fancy.”
“Absolutely.”
A long silence then came.
A painfully awkward one.
Neither of you moved, and Michael was about to throw himself into a ditch before he remembered something.
“Oh!” Somehow he startled you and himself.
“I almost forgot…” He reached into the leather satchel hanging from his shoulder.
“…I, um…”
He pulled out a hardcover book.
The very same one you’d dropped the night you met.
You immediately recognized it.
“The Evolution of Women’s Fashion Through the Decades.”
Your eyebrows lifted in surprise and confusion. “You really kept that?”
Michael then looked horrified.
“I didn’t steal it—I mean I picked it up! I asked if I could take it and they said sure, and you seemed to be enjoying this book so I—I just wanted to bring it back to…you.”
He rambled out, his cheeks burning from how embarrassed he was.
You then laughed, Michael visibly relaxed at that.
“Okay…” You hummed out.
He rubbed the back of his neck again.
“…Actually…would you…” He swallowed.
“…Would you sign it?”
You blinked, a bit confused. “…Sign it?”
He nodded a little too quickly. “Yeah…for me.”
You couldn’t stop the amused smile on your lips. “And why’s that?”
Michael froze. That was a good question. A very good question. Because he’d carried that book around for weeks.
Because it still smelled faintly like your perfume.
Because every time he looked at it…
He remembered your smile.
He couldn’t exactly say that.
So…
“I…”
He held up the book rather confidently.
“…I am very passionate about this.”
No, you weren’t Michael. You just stared at the book, replaying the time you bumped into her over and over again.
“Yes.” He said firmly. “Absolutely.”
He nodded with all the seriousness in the world.
You looked at him, then back at the book. Your heart nearly melted.
He was so adorable—trying to look cool and bad for you. And failing very much.
“Oh?” You asked, barely suppressing your smile. “You’ve become quite the fashion enthusiast then?”
Michael cleared his throat.
“…Mm-hm. I study…”
He glanced at the back cover very obviously reading the summary at the back.
“…Hemlines.”
You bit the inside of your cheek.
“Hemlines?”
“Yes, they’re very important…” He said with a nod.
“I studied textures…and…” He squinted as he read one of the highlighted words in the back. “Buttons.”
“Buttons?” You said with an exaggerated gasp.
“Yes, buttons.” He muttered.
“How advanced.” You said, your shoulders shaking.
You couldn’t hold back your laugh anymore—this man was so damn cute.
Michael smiled without even realizing he was smiling too.
You grabbed the book from him and opened the cover. “What’s your favorite chapter?”
He immediately looked around and scratched behind his ear. “Umm…obviously the…” He darted his gaze across the room. “Accessories…?”
You giggled, his heart quickened.
“I thought you’d say the silhouettes.”
“That too, of course. Such an important chapter…”
You shook your head fondly before uncapping the pen he had tucked inside the book. Carefully, you wrote on the first page.
When you handed it back—he looked down.
“To Michael.
Since you know so much about women’s fashion…
Let’s talk about it.
Maybe over coffee?
- (Name).”
He stared.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
His eyes grew impossibly wider.
Did—Did you ask him out on a date?
He looked up so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash. “…Coffee?” He breathed out.
You smiled. “If you’re free.” You said with a small shrug.
He tried very hard to remain composed.
Very.
Very hard.
“…I am.”
Inside—he was screaming. Jumping. Running laps around the room.
He’d spent weeks trying to gather enough courage to ask you out.
And somehow…
You’d done it first—seeming seeing through him so easily, and understanding that he was terrified to ask you out.
How could someone be so understanding?
———————
October 15th, 1997.
The front door quietly clicked open, Michael stepped inside with a tired sigh—fully expecting you to be waiting by the stairs impatiently, hoping on your feet.
So imagine his surprise when he heard silence. “Honey?”
No hurried footsteps.
No warm arms wrapping around his waist.
No sleepy smile waiting just beyond the hallway.
Only the quiet ticking of the grandfather clock. He frowned.
“Baby?” He called out.
You were sitting by the living room window. A blanket over your lap.
Looking outside as rain clouds gathered in the distance. You looked over.
“…Hi.” A polite smile on your face—small, gentle…and distant.
Michael immediately felt something tighten in his chest. He crossed the room and kissed your forehead, his hands shaking as he grasped your face.
“I’m home.”
“…Welcome home.”
That was all you said. No embrace, no laughter, no teasing, or fussing over him if he ate or anything. Just…courtesy. Like you two were just two kind strangers—maybe acquaintances.
He sat beside you. “Everything okay…?”
“Mhm.”
“You sure?”
“…You seem quiet…” He said, biting his lower lip nervously.
“I am.” You said simply.
He searched your face. “…Did something happen?”
You finally looked at him, staring at him for a long time. “…Many things happened.”
“Like what, baby?”
“Does it matter? It’s passed.” You said whilst looking away back to the window.
His eyebrows furrowed. “Well…I’m here now, you can tell me.”
“…I wanted to tell you then. But…oh, I forgot all about it now.” You said with a tight smile.
“What?” He didn’t understand what you meant. Everytime you explained how you felt to him over the phone, he’d just say he needed to go because of a meeting, a rehearsal. Avoiding something.
And you knew that he was just avoiding feeling uncomfortable. He always answered with solutions and excuses when he called back.
“I was working.”
“Things are different, the schedules…”
But none of those reached the place where your hurt lived.
You didn’t need solutions, or explanations. You just wanted him to be there for you, to understand you.
———————
The arguments became more frequent.
Not loud at first. Just…tired.
The kind born from two people who loved each other deeply, but have forgotten how to reach into one another.
Until one evening, it all exploded.
“I wasn’t asking for your whole damn day to talk!” You cried. “I was asking for just 5 minutes at least—is that so fucking hard to ask?!”
Michael shouted back. “I gave everything I could give you, (Name)! I don’t get it! Why are you so mad about some missed phonecalls?!”
“It’s not just that, Michael—dammit!” You cried out in frustration, your hands gripping on your clothes.
“What? Is it the tour extension?? I was trying to protect us, our future, (Name)!”
“Our future? No, no, your future! Your own damn reputation to the public!” You shouted out as he scoffed.
“What future Michael?!” You sobbed out, wiping your face.
“The one we keep postponing like a meeting?! Our family? Our children? Our marriage—“
“I couldn’t just stop, (Name)! I have responsibilities!”
“I never asked you to stop! I just—for once, I just wanted you to think about me too!” You cried out, your whole body shaking.
His breathing became uneven. His hands running through his curls. “You know how my life is, (Name). I thought you understood!”
“I don’t!” You cried out. “I don’t understand why everytime I tried to talk to you—you had to go away! I don’t understand why I had to learn from your fans that you were in places I didn’t even know anymore! I don’t understand anything at all…”
Michael stared at you, breathing heavily.
“I’m tired, Michael…” You breathed out with your whole chest, your fist hitting the pain inside.
“I’m so tired…so so tired…of fighting.”
“Fighting what? The media? The people outside our house attacking us?”
“Of fighting to just have you back! My husband back!” You screamed out, holding your face in your hands as hot tears fell down your face.
Silence. Heavy and painful.
You went to the front door, storming off.
He called out to you, his voice shaking. “(Name)!”
“I’m going for a walk…” You said shakily.
“It’s going to rain, dammit (Name)…” He seethed out, grabbing your arm.
You stood up and pushed him away. “I don’t care! I’m done. I’m gonna listen to myself for once and you are gonna leave me alone.” You said, slamming the door behind you.
Michael stood frozen, tears running down his face.
And almost immediately after you left—thunder cracked across the dark sky. Heavy rain poured without warning. His heart dropped. He immediately bolted out of the door—grabbing his coat by the rack.
“(NAME)!”
The streets blurred beneath sheets of heavy rain. He searched every corner, every sidewalk in the large compound. He even went outside into the empty neighborhood, hair wet and his shoes soaked. Calling your name until his throat hurt.
Finally—across the empty street. He saw you standing beneath the rain, hugging yourself as you quivered. You had no coat, no bonnet, no shoes—or anything.
You looked as freightened as he felt.
For a second—neither of you moved.
Then Michael ran, and you did too.
The moment your arms wrapped around each other, everything broke.
The anger, the sadness, and the loneliness that plagued you both.
He buried his face into your shoulder, the lightning flashing across the sky.
“I’m sorry…” His voice cracked. “I’m so so sorry…(Name).”
You clung to him tighter, “I missed you…so much.” You finally told him, sobbing.
He wiped your tears, despite the rain pouring over your face. “I’m sorry (Name)…”
“Michael…” You said, sniffling. “I’m not asking you for perfection like I’m a business partner…” You cried out.
Your face then buried into his chest.
“I just want you…”
He breathed out, tears rolling down his cheeks as he held you tight.
“I just need you…” You said, muffled into his chest.
He pressed his forehead to the top of your head.
“Then, you’ll have me. All of me.”
He then pulled away for a moment, stripping off his coat and shoes.
You blinked at him, confused as sniffles racked through your body.
Michael then knelt down, putting on his loafers on your scraped feet. And draping over his coat on your shoulders, putting up the hood over your already drenched head.
“What—What are you doing?!” You yelled out as the rain poured harder.
Michael then carried you, walking back quickly to the compound as the rain poured. He laughed shakily, his eyes red. “Making it up to you!”
“You idiot! You’re gonna get sick! I’m already soaked too!” You fussed as you tried to free yourself from his strong hold. “At least put your damn shoes on!”
“Doesn’t matter! I’m willing to go through anything and give you everything I got, (Name)!” He laughed out, as the rain poured harder.
You stared up at him, shocked at his statement.
You both then arrived at the front door, he opened the door with force, setting you down with a huff.
You both stayed silent for a moment, water dripping down from your bodies onto the hardwood floor.
You then slammed yourself into his arms, your knees growing weak from the loss of adrenaline. “You freaking idiot…”
“I know, sorry…”
“No…don’t be.”
He smiled at that, hugging you tightly.
———————
Fixing your relationship didn’t come easy. There wasn’t one conversation that fixed everything. It happened quietly.
One morning—he canceled a meeting to eat breakfast with you. It was very awkward and quiet, you two didn’t know how to move in each other’s spaces anymore, but he still stayed with you as you both long finished eating, just staring at the beautiful day outside the window.
Another afternoon—He walked with you down the path in Neverland, brushing shoulders with you awkwardly. And then, gathering the courage—he reached out to your hand, grasping it in his large one and squeezed yours.
He felt how cold your hands were, and traced his index finger on your wedding ring. You didn’t say anything, nor did he.
But you two blushed as you walked through the path, just holding hands.
Some days weren’t nearly as easy.
A week later—Michael sat beside you on the couch while you watched television.
He wasn’t really watching. He kept glancing toward the telephone resting on the hallway table, biting his lower lip.
It hadn’t rung all afternoon. Finally—
It did.
He sighed.
“I’ll be right back.”
“It’s okay.” You smiled. “I understand.”
…
The words froze him. His heart sank.
He turned around. You hadn’t meant them cruelly. You hadn’t even realized you’d said them—you just instinctively said it. But the sentence carried months of waiting inside it, and it broke Michael’s heart.
He slowly hung the phone back onto its receiver without answering.
“…Michael?” You said, confused.
“It can wait.” He said tightly.
“It might be important.”
“You are too.”
Your eyes immediately filled.
He walked back over, sat beside you, and say another word as you cried.
Just reached for your hand and held it.
The phone rang three more times.
Neither of you moved.
———————
Sometimes, old habits appeared before either of you could notice or warn yourselves. One afternoon—Michael disappeared into his office.
You figured he’d be there for twenty minutes. Then an hour. Then three.
The familiar knot returned to your stomach, making you a bit sick. You stared at the closed office door.
Don’t.
Don’t think like before.
He’s home.
He’s just busy.
He’s home.
He’s—
The door finally opened, and you let out a big, shaky breath that you didn’t know you were holding.
“Baby?” He murmured out as you looked up from where you were sitting in the couch.
“…Yeah?”
“I lost track of time.”
You nodded.
“It’s alright—“
“No.” He crossed the room.
“It isn’t.” He crouched beside where you sat. “I did it again.”
“…Michael…” You said softly.
“I said I’d be present.”
His voice became quieter. “…I don’t want you wondering where your husband went while he’s in the same house.”
Your eyes softened, almost tearing up.
“I wasn’t angry…” You said, assuring him.
“Well, I was scared.” He whispered. “That I’d hurt you again.”
You touched his cheek.
“I’ll tell you when you do.”
“…Promise?”
“I promise.”
———————
Another evening— The two of you finally held that planned dinner together.
Halfway through cooking—Michael’s assistant called. Just one question.
Then another.
Then another.
And without realizing it—
Michael slipped into work mode. Talking about schedules. Post-tour discussions. A new release.
Your smile slowly disappeared. You quietly finished dinner yourself.
By the time he hung up…
The food was already on the table. Cold.
He looked at you. “Honey?”
You continued eating, staring into nothing.
“…You okay?” He asked.
“You looked busy.” You said simply.
His heart sank. He immediately understood.
“…I did it again.”
You finally looked up.
“I’m not upset that you answered.” You whispered, wiping your mouth with a napkin. “I’m upset that when you answer…”
“…I just disappear.”
Silence. He looked at the untouched plate he’d meant to cook beside you.
“…You’re right.”
No excuses.
No explanations.
Just—you’re right.
It was somehow the most healing thing he’d ever said, because he understood you.
———————
There were nights when guilt kept Michael awake. He’d wake up, breathing staggered and sweat glistening on his face. He’d stare at the ceiling.
Listening to your breathing.
Thinking about every phone call he’d ended too quickly.
Every promise he broke.
Every conversation interrupted.
Especially the time he left you all alone during New Years. It ate him alive.
One night—he quietly slipped out of bed. You woke moments later to find his side empty. Instant panic spread through you before you could stop it.
“…Michael?” You called out. No answer.
You hurried downstairs.
Finding him sitting alone in the living room. Head in his hands.
You exhaled shakily.
“There you are.”
He looked up. “I’m sorry.” He whispered.
“…For what, Mike?”
“I keep remembering.” He laughed bitterly.
“You’d ask me for five minutes…and I’d think that was too much…when it wasn’t even anything.”
You sat beside him. “…Michael.”
“I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“You don’t have to think about it anymore…”
“I do.”
He looked at you with red eyes, finally lifting his head from his hands. “…Because I don’t ever want to become that man again.”
You leaned against his shoulder.
“You aren’t. Not anymore.” He quietly rested his head against yours.
———————
One rainy evening—you found him at the extensive library you both had. Holding that old fashion book.
“The Evolution of Women’s Fashion Through the Decades.”
He didn’t notice you watching. His thumb carefully brushed over your beautiful handwriting inside the cover.
“Maybe over coffee?”
He smiled to himself. “…Best day of my life.” He whispered.
“You never told me that.”
He nearly jumped. “Oh!”
You laughed at his reaction. “Were you just talking to my handwriting?”
He bit his lip sheepishly. “Maybe.”
You walked over. “You know…I almost didn’t ask you.” You said, a bit embarrassed.
He blinked. “…Really?”
“I thought you’d say no.” You said with a nod.
Michael stared. “You…thought I’d say no?”
You nodded.
“You were Michael Jackson.”
“And?” He raised an eyebrow.
“I figured women probably asked you out every day.” You said with a shrug, crossing your arms.
He looked utterly baffled. “I practiced asking you.” He confessed. “…For three weeks.”
Your jaw dropped. “Three weeks?”
“I had speeches and that type of stuff…” Michael said, embarrassed.
“You had speeches?” You said with a smile growing on your face.
“They were very good speeches.” He said jokingly.
“Can I hear one?” You suddenly asked.
He immediately covered his face. “No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Hey, you promised me you’ll do anything and give me everything.”
“I—“ He tried to argue, but then sighed, giving in.
———————
The 80s…
Michael would never admit how much time he spent practicing. Not just in front of mirrors. Everywhere.
In elevators.
Backstage.
Inside limousines.
In the studio with Q.
Even while brushing his teeth.
He’d clear his throat dramatically. Stand a little straighter, then begin as he looked at himself in the vanity mirror—all alone in the dressing room.
“…Hello, (Name).”
He frowned.
“…No. Too formal…”
He sighed.
“Hi, (Name)!”
“…No. Too plain.”
He rubbed his face. “Oh my gosh…” Groaning to himself. He tried again.
“…Good evening, (Name).”
He immediately pointed at his reflection, shaking his head. “Who says good evening?” He buried his face in his hands.
“You’re asking her to a date, not hosting the Oscars, Michael, jeez…” He took another deep breath.
One more time.
“…Hey.” He smiled at himself. Better. Much better.
“…I was wondering…if…” He winced.
“…No. Too uncertain.”
He started pacing the hotel room, asking himself questions.
“What if she says no?”
“What if she laughs?”
“What if she already has somebody?”
“What if she doesn’t even remember me?”
He stopped walking, seemingly having a eureka moment.
“…She remembered your name.” He whispered to himself, pumping his fist up slightly, gaining back his confidence.
He laughed nervously.
“Okay.” He breathed out. “…Okay. You can do this.”
He stood in front of the mirror again, pretending your reflection was standing opposite him.
He smiled. Warm. Boyish. A little shy.
“…Hey, (Name). I…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “…I’ve been hoping I’d run into you again.” His eyes softened.
“I know this might sound a little silly…but after we met, I kept thinking about our conversation.”
“…And…” He laughed quietly.
“…You seem like someone who makes ordinary days feel…” He searched for the right word. “…Gentler.”
He smiled to himself. “I’d really like to know you.” He said, bouncing on his feet.
“…Not because people say you’re interesting. Not because of what you do for work. Not because everyone else knows you.”
“…Just…”
“…Because you’re you.”
He swallowed nervously, like you were really in front of him.
“If…if you’d like…maybe we could go somewhere sometime to…do…something.” He winced at how awkward he was but pushed through.
“No cameras.”
“No crowds.”
“Just…you and me.”
He scratched his cheek.
“…I’ll even let you pick the place.
He nodded proudly, smiling.
“…That’s good.”
A moment of silence lulled over him. He rubbed his nose, huffing. “…Maybe don’t say ‘I’ll even let you.’”
He sighed. “…Sounds way too controlling, Michael.”
He tried again.
“…You can choose wherever you’d like unless…”
He laughed.
“…Unless it’s somewhere that has horrible service or environment.”
He smiled wider.
“…Actually, I don’t really care. I just…want an excuse to see you again.”
Silence.
He imagined you smiling.
Imagined you laughing softly the way you had when he forgot his sunglasses.
Imagined you saying yes.
Imagined your eyes looking at him directly.
His own face immediately turned bright red.
“Oh…”
He covered his face with both hands.
“…That was too much.”
He groaned dramatically.
“She needs to close her eyes before I say anything…I’ll faint.”
At that exact moment—someone knocked on his dressing room door.
“Michael? Five minutes.”
He was startled so badly he nearly fell over, he fanned himself to cool down his flushed face.
“Coming!”
He grabbed his jacket.
Then glanced at himself one last time in the mirror.
“…Just don’t faint.”
He muttered.
“…Please don’t faint.” He said closing his eyes.
———————
Presently, Michael opened his eyes as he saw you staring at him with wide eyes.
His face was so flushed, he looked away—turning his body away from you as you laughed.
“…”
“That was so sweet, Michael! Aw, you’re so cute…” You cooed out as you hugged him from behind, cooing at him.
He embarrassingly rolled his eyes and tried to stop your cooing.
“Stop it—“ “I can’t when my husband was—and still is so adorable!” “(Name)…”
You then laughed so hard that tears gathered in your eyes.
God…you looked so beautiful.
He missed hearing that sound. His most favorite sound.
———————
December 31st, 1997.
Neverland was quiet. Just music drifting softly from the living room record player.
Outside, big festive structures and fairy lights glowed around the gardens, reflecting against the frost that had settled over the grass.
You stood on the balcony with a mug of hot chocolate warming your hands, wrapped in one of Michael’s oversized sweaters.
You watched the stars in silence.
Footsteps approached behind you, then familiar arms slipped carefully around your waist.
“…You’re gonna catch a cold.” Michael murmured against the top of your head.
You smiled. “So are you.”
“I have a blanket.” He said proudly. You looked behind you, gasping. “You stole my blanket!”
“…Borrowed.” He corrected you.
You laughed softly. Michael stared at you with a smile.
“There it is again.” He whispered.
“What?”
“Your laugh.” He rested his chin on your shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing it.”
For a while…neither of you spoke. The silence felt warm now. Comfortable. An unspoken understanding between you two. Like home.
After a moment, you looked out toward the distant lights twinkling beyond Neverland. “…Do you remember last New Year’s?”
Michael’s embrace tightened ever so slightly. How could he forget? You had sat alone in this very house. Watching fireworks through the window. Holding the telephone in your hand as your other one clutched the newspaper.
Waiting for nothing, since he extended his tour.
When midnight came…instead of kisses and laughter, you cried and sobbed to yourself.
Michael had learned that months later. He had cried harder over that story than you had. “…I remember.” He said quietly. “I wish I didn’t.”
You turned in his arms until you were facing him.
“You don’t have to keep punishing yourself.” You said softly to him, rubbing his hand.
“I’m not trying to.” His voice cracked. “I just…I hate knowing you spent that night alone.”
You reached up, smoothing a loose curl away from his forehead. “And you’re here now.” You said warmly.
He leaned into your touch without thinking. “…I’m here now.”
A distant crowd somewhere beyond the gates began counting down slowly, probably the fans outside who decided they wanted to hang out by the gates for this new years
“Ten…”
You smiled. Michael smiled back.
“Nine…”
He gently took your mug from your hands and set it on the balcony railing.
“Eight…”
His fingers found yours, intertwining them. Just like they used to.
“Seven…”
You looked up at him. Really looked. The same shy, bambi-like brown eyes. The same soft smile.
The same man who had once carried around a women’s fashion book for weeks because it reminded him of you.
The same man who had nervously claimed to be “very passionate” about hemlines.
You giggled at the memory.
“What?” He asked, smiling at you.
“I was just thinking…you were a terrible liar.”
“Six…”
His ears immediately turned pink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You absolutely do. I really thought you knew all about women’s fashion.”
“…I knew enough.”
“Oh?”
“…Buttons.”
You laughed so hard you had to lean against him.
“Five…”
He cupped your face gently. His thumbs brushed away tears you hadn’t even realized had formed.
Not tears of sadness.
Not anymore.
Just…gratitude.
“Four…”
“I love you.”
He whispered.
Not hurriedly.
Not because he was about to leave for another flight. Not because someone was waiting outside the door. Just because he wanted you to hear it.
“Three!”
“I love you too.”
You answered. Without fear that the line would go dead. Without wondering when you’d hear his voice again.
“Two!”
He rested his forehead against yours.
“I’ll spend every New Year’s I have left with you.”
You smiled.
“I know.”
“One!”
The first firework bloomed across the night sky. Golden lights popped across the night. Lighting the world around you.
“Happy New Year!”
The sky erupted into color. And this time…neither of you watched it.
Michael closed the tiny distance between you, kissing you with all the tenderness of a man who finally understood that no standing ovation, no sold-out stadium, no award, no headline could ever compare to this moment.
You smiled into the kiss, holding his face back.
Five years of marriage.
One missed New Year’s.
Countless tears. Countless second chances.
All melting away beneath the fireworks.
When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, laughing quietly through damp eyes.
“…I think we’re a year late.” He sniffled out.
You smiled, brushing your thumb over his cheek, wiping his tears.
“No.” You whispered. “We’re right on time.”
He kissed your forehead this time, then your nose. Then laughed when you scrunched it up.
“Oh, don’t start Michael.”
“I have an entire year to make up for. Which means…we should totally start having kids.”
“Michael!”
“Today would be so good to make kids, no? Very festive…”
“Hush you! You’re being mischievous again…” You said, letting him hold you and pull you closer nonetheless, not pushing him away at all.
He grinned—that bright, boyish grin that had first made your heart stumble all those years ago between bookshelves and jazz music.
Michael leaned in once more, pressing his lips to yours. Pure love, passion, and happiness pouring into your souls.
And now where the fireworks blew up in the sky, as he held you—his world in his arms.
.
.
.
Note: I don’t like this one that much 😅 But, oh well 😆 I’m so so thankful for all your support guys, you don’t know what this means to me, my angelkins ❤️ I love you all very much. Much love to you! ❤️😊
Bear with me noww 😅🤣 I just wrote all night like a maniac figuring out how to make part 2 and I’m reading back—I suck at making angst I’m telling y’all 🥲😭
Do you guys want a happy but also sad ending? Or just a really sad ending 😂 Pick between two!
Girll "who's loving you" was SOOOOO SOAUUU GOODD!!! Literally chefs kiss 💋
PUHLEASEE IM BEGGING you for part 2 🙏🏻🤕😓🤧
Y’all don’t need to beg 😂😭 I didn’t know that it was so good, thank you so much! I really suck at making angst to be honest with you — I like being happy, therefore my writing is pretty happy 😂😂 And also because I’m a beginner writer haha…😅 I don’t really know what I’m doing y’all 🫠🫠
I’ll probably post the part 2 to Who’s Loving You today. I’m not sure if y’all will like it 😅😆 I told you, I’m not the best at angst 🥹
Thank you so much again for supporting, I love you all so so muchh ❤️ Much love to you always ❤️
summary. 1988, michael’s fame is constantly peaking and everyone’s eyes on him — especially the vultures who are nitpicking at every change in his looks. especially the change in his skin color.
content warning. self-consciousness and insecurity of physical looks (michael feels insecure about his vitiligo), media slander, angst — with comfort.
tags. angst, but then tooth rotting fluff after! michael is older than you. established relationship during thriller era.
———————
Michael panted as he finished his show for the night, raising a trembling hand to the thousands of fans still screaming his name as he was hurried toward the waiting car.
His chest rose and fell beneath the black-and-silver jacket, every muscle burning from the final performance.
The crowd was deafening.
“Michael! Michael!”
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
Security formed a wall around him as he ducked into the back seat, the door slamming shut behind him with a heavy thud. Only then did he allow himself to breathe.
He leaned back against the leather seat, his head falling against the headrest as sweat rolled from his curls, down his temples and along the bridge of his nose.
“…Thank you,” he murmured hoarsely to one of the guards before reaching for the napkin waiting beside him.
He dabbed absentmindedly at his forehead.
His cheeks.
His jaw.
The white cloth came away streaked with brown foundation, he looked down at it.
His heart skipped.
His fingers instinctively flew to his temple.
The makeup there felt thinner. Too thin.
He looked toward the tinted window just as another barrage of camera flashes exploded outside.
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
One photographer lowered his camera for only a second before frantically pointing toward Michael’s face, saying something to the others. Their lenses turned toward him all at once, horrifying him.
Like sharks catching the scent of blood.
Michael’s stomach lurched.
He caught the faint reflection in the window — a pale patch near his hairline.
Small, hardly noticeable. Yet somehow it felt enormous.
His hand shot up, covering it.
Too late.
The flashes came faster, all relentless. His security guard noticed immediately.
“Close the curtain.”
The partition slid shut with a mechanical whir, cutting off the photographers outside. Darkness settled over the backseat.
Silence.
Except for the ringing still echoing in Michael’s ears.
He looked down at the napkin again.
Brown makeup. A faint, creamy smear where it had mixed with sweat. He folded it quickly.
Then unfolded it.
Then folded it again.
His fingers wouldn’t stop fidgeting. “…They saw.”
No one answered. The driver kept his eyes on the road. The bodyguards respectfully looked away.
Michael swallowed, his throat painfully dry. “They saw…”
The words barely escaped above a whisper. He tried to convince himself it hadn’t been obvious.
Maybe the cameras hadn’t caught it.
Maybe it had been too dark.
Maybe…
But he knew cameras saw everything.
Tomorrow morning there would be enlarged photographs. Close-ups.
Circles drawn around every patch.
Questions printed in thick, glaring red headlines.
WHAT’S HAPPENENING TO MICHAEL?
ANOTHER SHOCKING CHANGE.
He squeezed his eyes shut, hot tears burning his eyes.
He could already imagine people staring at those photographs over breakfast.
Speculating, laughing — wondering what was “wrong” with him now.
A knot tightened in his chest.
Without thinking, he reached into the pocket of his jacket for the dark sunglasses he always carried. His fingers wrapped around them instinctively.
Then paused.
He was already inside the car, the lights off as he sat in the dark. No one could see him.
Still…
He put them on anyway.
The familiar weight settled across the bridge of his nose like armor.
A habit. A shield. Anything to feel hidden.
His reflection stared back at him in the darkened window.
He looked away.
The city lights blurred past outside, streaking across the glass like smears of white and gold. He barely noticed them.
His mind had already wandered somewhere else.
Tomorrow the papers would have new pictures. Another reason for strangers to decide who he was. Another day of him slowly descending down an infinitely sinking hole.
His chest tightened until it almost hurt.
He pressed the heel of his hand against it, taking a slow, shaky breath.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
It didn’t help at all.
For all the cheers he’d heard only minutes ago…
For all the thousands of people chanting his name…
The backseat of the car had never felt so unbearably lonely.
———————
When you got back to yours and Michael’s hotel room after you went to the spa, you hummed when you saw him in his red Mickey pajamas, face planted down on the pillows on your side.
You chuckled softly, sitting on his side of the bed. Your warm hand gently rubbing on his back. “Mikey? I’m back.”
He lifted his head from your pillows, a sheepish smile on his face.
“I know…I was just hoping that I could somehow doze off.”
“So you decided to steal my side of the bed?”
“Yes. Your side smells better…” He murmured as he blinked his lined, doe eyes.
You squinted your eyes. Your thumb wiped on his forehead. “Haven’t you taken off your makeup yet?”
“No!” He suddenly sputtered out, sitting up. He breathed out when you looked surprised at his sudden outburst.
“I—I mean…I don’t know…I…” He lost trail of his thoughts, his eyebrows furrowing as he bit his lower lip.
His hands rubbed and clasped together as he tried to soothe and regulate himself. His eyes shining as tears threatened to fall.
His hands even instinctively went up to his nose bridge as if to push up some imaginary sunglasses to hide the pain and sadness in his eyes — but he couldn’t hide anything from you.
You moved across the bed and gently took his hands in yours, squeezing his larger ones gently.
“What’s up, Michael?”
He sobbed at that, his tears falling to his knees, his hair covering his eyes slightly.
You waited for him patiently, stroking his hands and massaging the tenseness away.
“(Name)…Aren’t you disgusted by me? Haven’t you read the papers…seen the news? I’m a monster, a freak! There’s something wrong with me, (Name)!” He cried out with such agony in his bleeding heart.
Your own heart broke at his cries and rants, of how the world kept saying that he was changing into something else — something wrong, grotesque, and ugly.
All of these things weighed on him, all on his shoulders. He tried to face them and carry them for as long as he could, but the effects of it have already embedded their claws into his soul and heart.
It affected him so much that he refused to even let anyone see him without makeup on his face, thickly covering his skin — hiding all the blemishes and all spots.
You then pulled away from Michael’s hands, wordlessly going to the bathroom and getting your makeup remover and some cotton pads.
You sat down next to him, setting them down next to you.
He sobbed, his body quivering. “No…No, (Name)…you can’t see me like that…you’ll be disgusted like them.”
You cupped his damp cheeks, wiping away tears that won’t stop falling.
“Michael…”
He shook his head frantically, almost child-like as he let out a choked cry.
“No…please…” His voice splintered into another sob. “Don’t make me… please.”
He grasped your hand on his face, placing frantic kisses on your warm palm.
“I don’t want you to leave me…” He whispered desperately.
Your chest tightened.
Not because of what he thought he looked like — but because somewhere along the way, the man the world adored had become so convinced that love was conditional.
You cradled his face between your hands, your thumbs brushing beneath his wet eyes.
“Oh, Michael…”
He couldn’t meet your gaze.
His shoulders shook beneath the loose red pajama shirt as another sob escaped him.
“I don’t want you to see…” he whispered. “I don’t want you to look at me and realize they’re right.”
“They?” You whispered out.
“The papers…” His voice trembled. “The photographers… the people who stare…” He swallowed hard. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe… maybe I don’t look like me anymore.”
He laughed bitterly through his tears.
“Sometimes…” he admitted, “…sometimes I don’t recognize myself either.”
Silence settled between you, not an uncomfortable one. But his confession definitely made it’s mark in that silence.
You reached for the cotton pad, soaking it with the makeup remover before holding it where he could see.
“I’m not going to force you.” You said gently.
His watery eyes flickered toward it before dropping back to his lap.
“But…”
You gently tucked one of his curls behind his ear, his head instinctively leaning into your touch.
“…if you’ll let me…” You said as you put the cotton pad near his face.
“…I’d like to help.” You said with a warm voice.
His lip quivered.
“What if…” His voice was barely audible. “What if you hate what you find?”
You smiled. A small, aching smile that reached your eyes.
“Michael.”
He looked up.
“I’ve seen you after twenty-four hour recording sessions.”
A tiny sniffle.
“I’ve seen you with the flu.”
Another.
“I’ve seen you wake up with your cute hair sticking in six different directions.”
The corner of his mouth twitched despite himself.
“And?” He muttered.
“And you were still the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.”
Fresh tears welled in his eyes. He shook his head.
“That’s different.” He said with a huff.
“No.”
“It is.” He insisted, eyebrows furrowing.
“It isn’t.” You assured him.
Your thumb stroked across the place where the makeup had already begun rubbing away near his temple.
“This…”
You rested your forehead against his.
“…is your skin.”
His breathing hitched.
“It isn’t your heart.” You put your hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat slowing down.
A tear rolled over his cheek.
“It isn’t your kindness.” You rubbed his chest, feeling his skin warm up and flush underneath your soft touch. You moved your hand up to his jaw.
“It isn’t your laugh.”
“…”
“It isn’t the way you love and care for every animal like a disney princess.” You rubbed his flushed ears.
His shoulders trembled, he let out a weak, boyish laugh at that.
“It isn’t the way children run into your arms because they somehow know they’re safe there.”
“…”
“It isn’t the way you hold me when I have nightmares.”
His eyes squeezed shut.
“So tell me…”
You kissed the tip of his nose.
“…how could a few patches of your skin ever make you ugly?”
His breath broke into another sob. “They keep staring…”
“I know.”
“They whisper…”
“I know.”
“They take pictures…”
“I know, applehead.”
“They’ll print them tomorrow.”
You nodded slowly. “They probably will.”
He looked at you in disbelief.
“You—you’re not saying it’ll be okay.” He said, his voice breaking.
“No.”
His brows knitted together.
“I’m saying it already isn’t.” You said softly.
His breathing slowed just enough to listen.
“The way they treat you is cruel.”
He stared at you.
“They’re wrong for turning your pain into headlines.” You said to him, rubbing his jaw comfortingly. “But remember this Michael — they don’t get to decide what you are.”
You gently placed the cotton pad in his hand.
“They don’t know this man.”
You squeezed his fingers around it.
“They only know drama.”
“…”
“They only know rumors.”
“…”
“They only know photographs.”
Your hand found his heart, resting over the soft fabric of his pajama shirt.
“But I know the man whose heart is beating right here.”
His face crumpled.
“You know…” he whispered, “…when I was little…”
He hesitated.
“…Mother always used to wipe my face before bed.”
Your eyes softened as he smiled a little.
“Did she?”
He nodded, smiling through tears.
“She’d say…” His voice caught. “‘Michael, you’ve carried enough today. Let me take the rest off.’”
Your own eyes blurred, you sniffled a little too.
Without saying a word, you took the cotton pad back into your hand.
You held it up again.
“May I?”
This time…he didn’t answer right away. He didn’t shake his head or try to face his head away from you so that you wouldn’t see him.
His fingers trembled where they rested in yours.
Then, after what felt like forever…
He gave the smallest nod.
“…Okay.” He said so quiet — his voice as small and as soft as a dandelion.
You brushed the cotton pad across his forehead. The foundation lifted away in soft strokes. Neither of you spoke.
Another swipe.
Then another.
The subtle pale patches beneath slowly emerged—not ugly.
Far from it…he was beautiful. He was him.
His breathing became uneven again.
“I look strange.” He said through a staggered breath, a sob threatening to leave his body.
You continued carefully, never rushing.
“You look tired.”
A faint laugh escaped him through his tears.
“I do?”
“Mhm.”
“How?”
“You’ve been dancing for 3 hours straight, applehead. I don’t know what you expected.” You stated the obvious warmly as he laughed, his giggles leaving his mouth.
Another wipe across his flushing cheek.
“But you’ve been carrying the weight of the world for much longer.” You said softly.
His eyes filled again.
When the last traces of foundation disappeared, you set the cotton pad aside.
He kept staring at the floor.
Waiting.
Bracing himself.
You reached beneath his chin, rubbing the dimple in his chin affectionately.
“Michael…” You called out warmly.
He shook his head.
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“I don’t want to see your face.” He said shakily.
“My face?”
“If you’re disappointed…”
Your heart broke all over again.
You gently lifted his chin until his eyes finally met yours. He was surprised.
There wasn’t disgust.
There wasn’t pity.
Only love.
So much love it nearly undid him.
You smiled at him, looking at him like he hung the moon and stars.
“There you are.”
His lips parted, his eyes searching your face for any miniscule of you lying — to find nothing.
“…What?” He breathed out.
“There you are.”
You brushed your thumb over one of the lighter patches beneath his eye as though it were as ordinary as brushing away a strand of hair.
“I’ve been looking for this face all day.”
A sob escaped him.
“I thought…” he whispered.
“I know.”
“I thought you’d stop loving me.”
You leaned forward until your lips rested softly against the pale patch beneath his eye.
Then another kiss against his temple.
Another against his forehead.
Another at the corner of his mouth.
Each one lingered and deliberate, revering and loving on every blemish and spot he had. He slowly felt like they weren’t flaws, but something to be proud of — because he felt how much you loved him despite of it.
When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his once more.
“You know what I see?”
He shook his head.
“I see the man who stole my side of the bed because it smelled like me.”
A shy laugh erupted from him.
“I see the man who still blushes when I kiss him.”
His cheeks warmed instantly.
“I see the boy who still misses his mother.”
He smiled, his big dark eyes shining.
“And I see the man I’m going to keep choosing…”
You intertwined your fingers with his.
“…whether your skin changes a little…”
You kissed his knuckles.
“…or a lot.”
His shoulders finally sagged, years of fear seeming to pour out of him all at once.
He collapsed into your arms with a broken cry, wrapping both arms around your waist as though you were the only thing keeping him together.
“I was so scared…” he sobbed into your shoulder.
You held him tighter.
“I know, baby.”
“So scared…”
“Mhm…”
“They made me think…”
“I know.”
Your fingers combed slowly through his soft curls until his cries softened into quiet hiccups.
You rocked him gently, humming beneath your breath.
There were no cameras here.
No photographers trying to capture a bad angle of him.
No journalists yelling and asking intrusive questions about him, accusing him of malicious lies.
Only the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his ear.
Only your arms around him.
Only your quiet voice in the stillness of your shared hotel room as the city bustled below you two.
“You don’t have to hide from me anymore. You’re beautiful, Michael.”
And for the first time in what felt like forever…
Michael felt beautiful.
———————
The next morning…
You watched Michael eat breakfast with an adoring smile on your face, your chin resting lazily in your palm as your eyes followed his every little movement.
Morning sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains of the hotel suite, bathing everything in a warm golden glow.
The radio on the kitchen counter hummed softly in the background while the scent of fresh coffee and toasted bread filled the room.
Michael quietly stirred his bowl of oats, pretending to be completely invested in the task.
He wasn’t.
He could feel your eyes on him.
Every few seconds, he’d sneak the tiniest glance in your direction, only to find you still smiling at him.
His cheeks slowly turned pink.
“…What?” he mumbled, taking another spoonful.
You simply smiled wider.
“Nothing.”
His eyebrows knitted together. “You’re staring.”
“I know.”
“…Why?”
You tilted your head. “Can’t I look at my handsome angelface while he eats breakfast?” You cooed out.
He nearly choked on his oats.
You reached over with a napkin, trying—and failing—not to laugh as he covered his mouth, coughing softly.
“I’m fine,” he insisted, though his cheeks had deepened into a rosy crimson.
“You sure?”
“Yes!” He breathed out, embarrassed.
“You don’t look very sure.” You teased.
He huffed quietly, looking back down at his breakfast.
“You’ve been looking at me for… like… five minutes.”
“Wrong, I’ve been timing myself. I’ve been staring at you for 6 minutes, and 33 seconds to this moment.”
His eyes widened.
“You’re crazy, girl…”
“Eh.” You shrugged with a relaxed smile.
He let out the smallest, most embarrassed laugh, shaking his head.
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re beautiful.”
His spoon froze halfway to his mouth. A bashful smile tugged at his lips despite his best efforts.
“…Stop.” He said, embarrassed.
“You stop.” You retorted.
“I’m serious.” He laughed out despite his statement.
“So am I. You’re so beautiful.”
His gaze dropped back into the bowl.
“You’ve…” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “You’ve been saying that a lot lately. I mean you always told me before but…y’know…I had makeup on all the time back then.”
“Mhm.”
“…Why even now…?”
You reached across the table, brushing one of his soft curls away from his forehead.
“Because you are.”
He looked up.
Your thumb traced gently over one of the pale patches near his temple with the same absent tenderness someone might use to smooth a wrinkle from a loved one’s shirt.
“You don’t hide from me anymore.”
His breath caught.
“And I don’t think you realize how much I love seeing all of you.”
His cheeks burned. Michael instinctively reached toward his face before catching himself.
Your hand slipped around his wrist.
“Don’t.” You warned.
He looked at you questioningly.
“You don’t have to cover your face every time I look at you.”
His shoulders softened, a sheepish smile on his handsome face.
“…Old habit. ‘m sorry.”
“I know.” You smiled.
“I’m helping you break it.” You chuckled out softly.
The radio crackled softly before another song faded in.
A familiar bassline.
Michael immediately recognized it.
“…Oh, no.”
Your smile became mischievous.
“Oh, yess.”
His eyes widened as the opening lyrics of Pretty Young Thing floated through the room. You slowly stood from your chair, swaying to the music.
“No…” Michael said, a smile on his face in disbelief.
You turned around and pointed dramatically at him.
“Where did you come from, lady?”
Michael immediately buried his reddening face in one hand.
“Oh, come on…”
You walked around the table, singing along with a grin.
“And ooh, won’t you take me there…”
He was already laughing.
“(Name)…”
“Right away, won’t you, baby?”
“You know that’s not fair!”
“It absolutely is!”
You stopped beside his chair, gently taking his chin between your fingers so he’d look at you. His doe eyes met yours. Still impossibly shy.
“C’mon, let me see that smile…” You coaxed out as he tried to keep his face straight, but failing miserably.
You smiled before softly singing the next line directly to him dramatically, pulling a huff out of him.
“I want to love you! Pretty young thing!”
He groaned dramatically.
“No…”
“You need some lovin’…”
He laughed so hard he nearly dropped his spoon.
“(Name)!”
“Tender lovin’ care!”
He hid behind both hands now, shoulders bouncing with quiet laughter.
“And I’ll take you thereee!” You sang out passionately, wiping an imaginary tear from your eye.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
“Well, believe it, baby.”
“I wrote that song for you back then…”
“I know.”
“So why are you singing it to me?”
You leaned down until your foreheads almost touched.
“Because you are my pretty young thing.”
He let out the loudest, most flustered laugh, shocked.
“I’m not!”
“You absolutely are.”
“I’m twenty-nine!”
“So?”
“I’m not young! I’m older than you, baby.”
“You’ll always be younger than me in spirit.” You said, putting a hand to your chest.
He gasped in mock offense.
“That’s rude.” Michael said as he raised an eyebrow.
“It’s true.” You hummed out.
He finally lowered his hands, revealing the biggest smile you’d seen on him all morning.
One that reached his eyes.
One untouched by cameras.
Untouched by headlines.
Untouched by fear.
You couldn’t help yourself.
You cupped his warm face and admired him all over again.
The faint constellation of lighter patches across his skin.
The freckles and blemishes dusting his nose.
The sleepy curls that refused to stay neat.
Every piece of him was achingly familiar now.
Every piece was just beautiful.
He noticed your gaze lingering again and immediately ducked his head with another bashful smile.
“…You’re staring again.”
“I know.”
“…You gonna stop?” He said, rolling his eyes.
“Not a chance.”
His laughter filled the hotel room once more, blending with the music on the radio as he reached for your hand beneath the table.
He laced his fingers with yours and gave them a gentle squeeze.
“…Good.”
.
.
.
Note: Isn’t our Mikey just the cutest thing? Our P.YT. 😂 Much love to all of you! ❤️
Same thing with Jermajesty, if not more 😂 I don’t write for him, he’ll always be my nephew in my eyes 😂😂😂 But of course, to the authors who I write about him — I’ll always support them ❤️
For the brothers…hmmm…we’ll see 👁️👁️ I love me some Jackie, Tito, and Marlon — including Jermaine! They’re all soo handsome 🥰
Randy though…idk what the heck happened to him and why he became evil 😭
Honestly, even when he was younger, he was already evil 😭
Do y’all know about the time Tina Turner (the legendary queen 🕊️) shot at him because he broke into her house where his girlfriend was living in at the time? He’s a very bad person, I never liked him and never will!
Let’s just cross out Randy as a whole, ok? That man gives me a headache.
And maybe…I’ll write for Janet too…I’ll think about it 😆 I’m loyal to Michael y’all but I can drabble maybe once in a while to other members in that fine ass family 🤣
Edit: After some thinking, I decided that I’ll only write for Michael soo sorry 🥹 I just can’t — feels like I’m cheating on him 😂 Maybe I’ll write a little Marlon here and there but, the other siblings after getting some wonderful information and insight in the comments (I highly recommend that you guys read it!) I will not be writing about them.
Nope 😅 In my eyes, Jaafar is my nephew 😂 even though he’s older than me by 12 years 😂😂😂
My heart only burns and yearns for Michael 🍎 but that doesn’t mean Jaafar isn’t a good-looking young man 😊 I fully support other authors who write about their love to him. ❤️
That’s my nephew right there! Treat him right 😂❤️ Much love to you ❤️
summary. it is now 1996, mike is starting his history tour — a retaliation against the slander of the press and media towards him. but in the process, he pushes away many people in his life — prioritizing other things.
content warning: toxic behavior in relationships (avoidance & neglect), angst, wishing to have children.
Part 2 here
———————
You walked next to Michael in the early morning hours of the airport, his security surrounding you two as you escorted him to the plane.
You’ve done this millions of times already in the 5 years you’ve been married — sending him off with a warm, slow kiss and a hug that is filled with love.
This one is no different.
Michael wrapped his arms around you, burying his face into your neck as you chuckled softly.
You squeezed him, pulling away slightly to kiss his soft lips. He kissed you back with such gentleness and warmth like always.
He rubbed your ears, warming them up since it was too cold that morning.
You chuckled. “Go on now, Mikey, I’ll be okay.”
“Wear your bonnet over your ears, honey…” He fussed — evading your goodbyes as always.
Your eyes curved, a smile on your face that he’s always admired. “What?” He sheepishly said as he adjusted your bonnet to cover your ears.
“You need to go now, applehead. I’ll wear my coat and bonnet, yes I’ll drink water a lot, I’ll eat my meals on time and not immediately lay down after — even though it’s comfortable.” You assured him as he laughed.
“It’s not good for you baby, you always get constipated when you do that.” He said whilst tapping your forehead gently. You rolled your eyes, secretly loving it when he fusses about you, worries about you, and cares about you.
He always noticed the little things that made you happy, sad, or hurt.
“I’ll be okay, promise. Just come back soon, Michael.”
He sighed, hugging you once more, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“I love you.” He whispered — even after all the farewells and hugs you both gave, he still never wanted to go leave you.
“I love you too.” You murmured back.
He reluctantly pulled away after a couple of seconds.
His security divided, one half staying with you and the other half staying with him.
Michael got on the escalator, waving his arms to you widely with the brightest smile on his adorable face.
“I’ll be back before you know it!” He yelled out, walking away fully.
You watched his figure through the empty airport windows getting into a private plane with his crew.
You never really minded saying goodbye to Michael, because you always knew he’d come back home to you.
———————
The first couple days of his tour has been going well from what you heard during your late night phone-calls with him.
The different timezones were difficult to deal with, often than not — he called you when you were about to fall asleep and you called him when he was in rehearsals.
But it wasn’t that bad at all.
He always asked how you were doing, fussing over you like always.
You laughed at his antics, same as ever, and loving as ever.
This one night after his show in South Korea, he dialed your number in the telephone.
You were half-asleep whilst a book was about to topple over your lap when you answered.
“Mike? Michael? Hi honey…”
“Hey, baby…sorry I didn’t get to call yesterday I was in a meeting after the show…” He murmured into the phone.
You smiled softly, you were waiting for him to call yesterday but you expected him to be busy anyway.
“It’s alright, Mikey. I understand. You’re taking on a lot right now…are you okay?”
He smiled. He knew you’d understand. You were always patient like that.
“Yeah, I’m okay…I’m taking a break right now.” He said softly.
“How was your day-“
“Hold on, baby.” He said into the phone as you heard knocking in the background on his side.
“…Sorry baby, I got to go. Business calls. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Of course, Mikey. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
He promptly hung up the phone, and you put the phone back on the stand.
You sighed to yourself, well, that was to be expected from someone as busy as Michael. Although, you couldn’t help but just wish to at least be able to have talked to him for at least 5 minutes.
You then shook your head, slapping your cheeks to wipe off your negative thoughts.
You needed to stay positive as you always did like when he was doing his Dangerous tour.
Although it was much easier since he often had time to go back to you and take a break…
But nonetheless, you can do it.
———————
The next few weeks were okay. The late night-early morning calls were often interrupted by Michael needing to go to rehearsals, meetings, or deal with something else. Of course, all you could say is: “I understand.”
And that brought comfort to Michael. But really, you couldn’t understand how — somehow everything is just keeping the little time you have to talk with your husband away.
The calls seem to be getting shorter by the day, once you were even barely able to say a greeting to him before getting interrupted.
And right now, you dialed his number once more. The third time you’ve tried calling.
“Pick up…” You muttered to yourself, biting on your thumb.
You just wanted to hear his voice today. You were missing him very much.
And he picked up.
“…”
“Michael? Hey baby…how are you?”
“(Name)? Oh, I thought you were one of the business guys…” He murmured, sounding relieved for some reason.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, no…just stressed as always baby. You know the drill.” He chuckled out.
You smiled at his chuckle, laying your head on his pillow as you put the phone near to your ear.
“I miss you, Mike.” You whispered to him.
He hummed. “I miss you too, honey. But I promise, I’ll be back soon.”
“Yeah, we got that dinner planned when you get back right?” You said with a little laugh evident in your voice, you glanced at the calendar on your nightstand — the date marked with a red marker.
“Yes baby, it’s gonna be great-“ He suddenly hushed down as some voices were talking to him in the back.
He just hummed. “I gotta go now baby.”
You sat up, hugging his pillow.
“Wait, I haven’t even had 3 minutes with you yet —“
“I’m sorry honey, I got to go. Talk to you later.”
“I love you —“
He then hung up before he could respond back. You put the pillow up to your nose, inhaling his cologne.
It’s okay. He’s just really swamped with everything, he’s at the peak of his tour right now so of course he is. You wouldn’t want to hinder his passion for this tour.
You understand.
You look at the empty space in the bed next to you and smile absentmindedly.
He’s in Europe today…or Asia?
The flight schedule is muddled in your head right now, but wherever he is, he must be okay.
———————
Michael let out a long exhale, dropping his sunglasses on the nightstand next to his hotel bed. The days were muddling together.
Hotel.
Airport.
Soundcheck.
Meeting.
Rehearsal.
Concert.
Repeat.
He was constantly juggling things as well as trying to deal with the media’s bashing on him, trying to keep his fans’ love and loyalty.
He had locked himself in his hotel room for most of the time after his concerts, he just wanted some quiet. No extravagant after-party or anything. Just silence.
Michael loved to keep a journal to write down his thoughts for the day, a way to regulate himself and to check off things he wanted to achieve that day.
And on the upper corner of each one of those pages, he scribbled “Call (Name)”
Yet every night and day, something would come up and he couldn’t check that one thing out.
Someone needed him.
A producer.
A promoter.
A doctor checking his throat.
Wardrobe.
Security.
Business.
Especially those business men. They just loved to take up all his time.
By the time he was finally alone…
He’d glance at the hotel clock.
Three in the morning.
Ten in the morning for you.
“She’s probably busy…”
He’d tell himself he’d call later. You’d understand, right?
———————
One thursday afternoon, you decided you needed to get out and have a nice time to yourself.
Which is really just French of you saying you needed a distraction from not getting a single call or word from Michael.
You put on a face mask and sunglasses, as well as a scarf and a hat for good measure to your disguise.
One of the security men saw you sneak out of the house and immediately they started following you.
You tried to shoo them away like they were a group of cats but they just kept following you, making you sigh as they surrounded you — making it obvious who you were.
Michael’s wife, (Name) Jackson.
Once you arrived to the mall, the paparazzi and fans were already there, crowding the entrance — taking photos of you as you and your security pushed through the crowd.
You then entered a clothing store, buying clothes for yourself and Michael.
Then you felt a hand tug on your skirt gently, you looked down to see a kid about 5 years old. Big brown eyes and (color) hair…that baby kinda looked like you and Michael.
Your heart swelled as he held out his arms go you, seemingly thinking that you were his mother.
Funny enough, the kid that you and Michael could’ve had would’ve been his age.
You and Michael weren’t able to have kids yet, because Michael was simply too busy to.
You and Michael were going to have children after his Dangerous tour, but when the media started making a hate train on him and actively attacking him — he had to protect his reputation, his legacy. So he immediately got to work on his HiStory album and tour to set things straight.
You supported him of course, that was his passion. You understood.
The mother of the child then came over and took her child, apologizing to you before becoming starstruck when she realized who you were.
“You’re…You’re…”
You couldn’t help but chuckle.
“That’s the lady from the TV, mommy…” The little boy pointed towards you as his mom hushed him, telling him that pointing is bad.
You chuckled.
“It’s alright, you have such a delightful little boy. He’s as cute as a button.”
The mom smiled instantly, a motherly kind of pride.
“Thank you, he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me as a single mom…would you like to hold him?”
You blinked, surprised as the lady held up her son to you.
She saw your eyes tear up as you held her son in your arms. The boy immediately hugged you and you cradled the back of his head.
You were always just waiting for the right time to have children with Michael. He wanted to have kids too — they’d probably look like this boy right here.
“You look beautiful.” The mom said softly as you shed a tear, it rolled down your cheek before the boy wiped it away, melting your heart.
“Thank…Thank you.”
“If I may ask…why haven’t you and Michael have kids yet?” She asked before smacking herself on the mouth.
“I-I’m sorry, I’m so insensitive.”
“No, no, it’s alright…well, he’s on tour right now. And it would be hard on him going back and forth…we’re just looking for the right time.”
“Oh, I see…but you know, you’d make a good mother. My little boy’s almost asleep in your arms even though with me, he’s so hyper.” She laughed out, squeezing her son’s chubby arm gently.
You rocked the boy in your arms, cherishing this moment.
“Children just make the whole world go round, don’t they? I’m really honored to have been able to hold your son…may I buy some toys and things for you and him?” You asked softly as the mom’s jaw almost dropped.
She didn’t even get to answer before you started putting things in a cart, she held her son in her arms as the boy let out amazed noises — expensive toys, clothes, appliances — even furniture.
You probably spent thousands of dollars in mere seconds, you just nodded when the cashier told you the price, not hesitating to pay all of it in cash.
You and the duo then left the store, your security helping carrying the newly shopped things for them.
“Would you like to buy groceries too?”
The mom hastily shook her head, still in shock and a bit embarrassed that you just paid for everything.
“N-No, it’s alright!” She squeaked out as her son played with a new toy airplane in his hands.
“I wanna be a pilot!” He said suddenly to no one in particular.
You smiled and patted his head.
“Work hard then okay? Help your mommy always, be there for her.”
The boy nodded and hugged his mom. “My mommy’s the best mommy!”
You chuckled softly, your heart melting as his mother hugged him back.
Soon, you’ll be able to experience this with Michael.
———————
You stepped out of the mall with your security, where some of the fans were at the parking lot. Some paparazzi were clever enough to expect you to exit through the parking lot.
“Ms. Jackson! What are your thoughts about the tour so far?”
“Why aren’t you with Michael?”
“Can we get a comment on your marriage being a stunt?”
You kept your head lowered, you were so tired of these vultures.
The fans then started blocking these paparazzi and pushing them away, you chuckled as those journalists grumbled as they walked away.
You then waved your hands to the fans, walking up to them.
“Thank you, everyone…”
“Don’t sweat it, (Name)!” They said like they were your friends, after today — they definitely were.
You chuckled as they started having a conversation with you, and for once in a long time, you felt normal. You felt like you.
“— Aw but, Michael’s show in Auckland last night was crazy, though. It was amazing!” One of them said as all of them nodded in agreement.
Auckland? Wasn’t he just in Bangkok? You felt a pit in your stomach.
You didn’t even know where he was anymore since he barely updated you.
But they did. His fans did.
You smiled politely.
“Oh…yes. It looked fun.”
The fans smiled and helped you to your car.
Once you got into the car, you pressed your head against the tinted window — praying that Michael could call tonight.
———————
Three more days passed.
No phone call.
You kept trying but…
Nothing.
You stopped sitting beside the telephone.
Instead, you carried it with you.
Cord stretched halfway through the hallway while you dusted furniture.
Across the kitchen while you cooked.
Into the bedroom while you folded laundry.
Ridiculous.
But you didn’t even want to miss a single second of hearing that phone ring. Your heart ached. You felt so lonely.
———————
The phone finally rang after a week.
You nearly dropped the mug in your hands when you were dozing off.
“Hello?” You said, elated.
“…Baby?”
Your face lit up instantly.
“Michael!”
His laugh came through the receiver.
“I woke you?”
“No.” You lied.
“I’m sorry I haven’t called.” He whispered softly to you.
“It’s alright.” You said with a tight lipped smile.
“I’ve been swamped.” He reasoned.
“I know.” You said with a curt nod.
“I’ve missed you.”
“I miss you too.”
There was a pause.
A comfortable one.
The first one you’d shared in weeks.
“…How’s home?”
You smiled at that, was he worrying about you?
“Lonely.” You said with a dramatic sigh.
He laughed softly. “I’ll fix that.”
“When?”
Another pause.
Longer.
“I…”
Papers shuffled on his end. Someone whispering and people conversating in the background.
Then another voice.
“…Jackson…they’re…downstairs sir.”
Michael covered the receiver.
“One minute.”
You listened to the muffled noises of him talking about the tour, business and all kinds of things that you didn’t know about anymore.
When he uncovered the phone, his tone had already changed. The one he used for those meetings of his.
“I’m sorry, baby.”
You looked down at your mug.
“…Again?”
“…”
“I really have to—”
“You always have to go.”
The words escaped from your lips before you could stop them.
“…Honey.”
“No, it’s okay.” You said softly, instinctively. “I understand.”
He exhaled in relief.
“I knew you would.” He said with a smile evident in his voice.
You felt hot tears burn in your eyes, your body racketing with quiet sobs — holding away the phone from your face.
You were getting really tired of fighting for your time with your husband. You shouldn’t even have to. Just for 5 minutes, you were constantly cradling the telephone, worrying. Just for 5 minutes with him.
“…Michael?”
“Yeah?”
“I was thinking…” You hesitatedly started.
“…Maybe after the tour…”
“Hm?”
“…We could finally start talking about children again.”
Silence. Not because the line cut out, but becausehe didn’t answer. You waited, of course.
“…Michael?”
Another voice interrupted him.
“Five minutes.” He said politely.
He sighed, heavy through the reciever. He wanted that too but…
“…Baby.”
Your heart sank before he even spoke, you feel like you already knew the answer.
“I don’t think now’s the right time.”
“You said after Dangerous.” You murmured.
“I know.”
“You said after the album.” You choked up.
“I know.”
“You said after—” He interrupted you with a tense tone.
“I know.”
His voice became sharper than he’d intended. He then let out a breath, exhaling to calm down.
“I know what I said.”
Neither of you spoke. He rubbed his forehead. “…Things changed, yknow.”
“They always change.”
He didn’t answer.
“I’ll wait.” You whispered it so quietly you almost hoped he wouldn’t hear.
He swallowed thickly, rubbing his temples. He heard that. “…We’ll talk when I get home.”
“You always say that too.”
Another silence. Long enough that you checked whether the line had disconnected.
It hadn’t.
He simply wasn’t speaking.
Finally—
“I have to go.”
Of course.
“You understand, right baby?” Michael asked softly, like he was there next to you. You wish he was.
You didn’t answer this time. He furrowed his brows.
“…I love you, Michael.”
“…Love you.”
He hung up after that, the dial tone filling the room afterwards.
———————
Another week passed by with no call. You only really got updates from his security, who were urging him to take a rest.
Michael didn’t listen to anyone, not even you. He was too busy fighting the entire world and industry to care about anything else.
You opened the bedside drawer of your shared bedroom, chuckling bitterly as you saw the cream-colored knitted socks fit for a baby.
Katherine and your mother had gifted this for you on your wedding day. “For when the time comes.” “Mhm.” They said with smiles on their faces.
“Not yet, guys — c’mon.” You laughed shyly then as they chuckled.
“With how in love you two are, it’ll probably be next month, hm?”
Your mom teased out as Katherine laughed. You blushed in embarrassment but you couldn’t help and smile back then.
You couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life with Michael. Every second with him, making a family with him.
But in those 5 years, 5 anniversaries, and countless promises he made to you that he would settle down after his projects…
These socks never left the drawer.
———————
The next few weeks were expectedly quiet, not many phone calls from Michael, just him apologizing and you murmuring that you understood before he hung up.
It was almost New Years Eve at this point, the fireworks painted the night sky, you watched them as they colored in the darkness.
5 years ago, Michael would always kiss you at midnight. You always treasured that movie-like moment as the fireworks blew in the background of a chill night.
You can only reminisce right now. Was it even New Years for him? He’s in Japan. Wait, no. The Philippines.
That was weeks ago, you grabbed a tabloid paper that was delivered to you that morning.
Ah, Brunei.
You laughed bitterly. You would’ve known if he had told you.
But you understand right?
You checked the calendar and see the date marked on when he was coming back.
The 7th.
You smiled at that at least. You then kept looking at the tabloids delivered to you. You slowly frowned as you read another title.
“TOUR EXTENDED TO MAY DUE TO OVERWHELMING DEMAND: FANS GOING CRAZY FOR JACKSON”
You just put your head in your hands. Sobbing quietly as the fireworks blew off in the background.
You couldn’t count how many times that you’ve cried for the past 5 months. One of the first things Michael ever promised to you was that he would never make you cry.
But just like a bunch of other promises he made, he broke it.
.
.
.
note: Not too sure about this one guys 😅 I kinda suck at making angst 😂 But anyway, I finally got WiFi at my hospital so I’ll post again soon 👁️👁️ Much love to you all! ❤️❤️❤️
you and mj messing up the kiss scene in the way you make me feel mv
tags. fluff, romance, comedy, slightly suggestive (no explicit nsfw)
———————
you and michael have been dating secretly for a while now, and only people who worked closely with either one of you knew about it. not even his or your family knew.
he had asked you to be the main lead in this music video since he felt most comfortable working with you and he wanted to hint at the media that he was in love — crazy in love.
you were both crazy for each other, often teasing each other. and just plain crazy since you two were mischievous little shits and kept pranking the staff with lighthearted pranks.
and whenever the camera would start rolling, you both could not stop smiling whenever your eyes met.
making the director start balding at an early age, since you were supposed to act annoyed.
you and michael stifled a laugh when the director scolded you two like badass little kids.
“oh joe.” michael said in a nasally tone.
joe pytka — the director of the music video, his eyes almost bulged out of his skull as you two bursted out into laughter.
he then sighed, at least you two had so much chemistry.
not wanting to irritate and age the director any further, you and michael decided to tone down your behaviors and be professional.
filming went on smoothly, the crew could practically go on their knees — kiss the ground and thank god because of how smooth all the takes were. it was like they hit a flowstate.
and now finally, after the dance break of michael with the dancers — it was the scene where michael won you over and underneath the droplets of the fire hydrant going off, your two silhouettes get closer and you two kiss under the beautiful moonlight.
the cinematography of that scene could simply put a tear to any cinematographer’s eyes.
the crew could finally get home early tonight.
joe then yelled through a megaphone, “in 3, 2, 1, action!”
you walked forward, looking around as michael approached you.
you looked up at him and he gazed down at you, you both got closer and…
michael’s shoulders shook as he saw you hold back your laughter with your whole face.
the crew collectively groaned as the two of you laughed, hands on your knees, wheezing.
joe then called for another take.
“take 2, action!”
you and michael were now close in proximity, your faces just inches away from each other…
and you both just gave each other a light peck.
the cameraman let out the longest sigh, the crew smacked their faces.
“that was like a kiss that someone would give their friend.” the director commented dryly as you two laughed.
“take 3, action!”
you and michael walked towards each other, embracing one another, you then tilted your head to the left, and michael lowered his head down slightly, kissing you deeply and slowly.
a perfect scene.
joe then suddenly said cut, you both slowly pulled away from each other, smiling.
“uh, (name), that was perfect, but tilt your head to the right in the next take so that the kiss can be clearer.”
“how many takes do you need, joe?”michael mused out, smiling brightly.
the crew though, took the question seriously, they wanted this to be done already.
the director chuckled, “just one more, okay? we can do this, let’s go back into our places guys.”
“i don’t mind doing a thousand takes to be honest.” michael said flirtatiously to you as you let out an “aww, stop it mikey.”
one of the hairstylists gagged at that.
“take 4, action.”
you and michael walked up to each other, your arms wrapped around his neck as you tilted your head to the right and you both kissed slowly.
it would’ve been a perfect scene…if not for the camera losing the battery when you two made contact.
the crew was about to cry and shake, inhaling slowly.
you and michael just held onto each other, very amused and giggly.
“…just do it.”
you held back your laugh at joe’s tired voice as you and michael walked towards each other.
you both then made contact, your arms wrapping around his neck as his firmly held your slim waist. your eyes shimmered as you looked up at him.
to everyone else who will watch this music video, they’ll probably say that its just for the video.
but truly, the way that michael looked at you right now — there was no other thing more real than that.
you both smiled as you pressed your lips together, your head tilted to the right as michael kissed you. the most perfect scene.
the cameraman then finishes recording by pressing the button, and the crew cheers at finally ending after a long day of shooting.
their cheers then quieted down as they saw you both still kissing, embracing ecah other.
aww, a genuinely happy couple…
ugh, ew.
they all quickly packed up and left, you both then pulled away as you guys heard their footsteps walking away quickly.
“hey, don’t you guys wanna celebrate?” you called out.
“yeah, come back!” michael also shouted.
you both heard their footsteps turn into vigorous sprinting, and cars driving off into the distance.
you and michael looked at each other and just shrugged, happily walking to your shared dressing room to do another thousand takes of that kiss scene privately.
———————
note: This is a really old drabble from my notes 😂 I was going to post the Honeybee fanfic and I already started the Butterflies draft, but my wifi cut out and none of them saved 😭😭😭 so please, bare with me 😢😢 Much love to all of you! ❤️❤️❤️
Reader and Mj having a cozy day inside that leads to a steamy session that leads to the reader getting pregnant
I don’t know how hard it is to read my bio when it’s at the top of my profile 🫠 I even put it on my pinned post that I do not do nsfw.
I do not write nsfw, please stop requesting me these kinds of fics. This’ll be the last time I’ll acknowledge these — I’ll be ignoring the next requests that have the same themes.
Especially the new one like I was holleringgggg😭😭😭 Can you do a bad era mj x female reader comforting him abt his insecurities? I wanna see him being comforted for once!! 😭😭😭
Awww, thank you so much 🥹 Absolutely! 100 percent to the millions and infinity 😆❤️
I’ve already had an idea a while ago whilst reading through all my requests, and yes — our angelface needs one where he is being comforted 🙂↕️
Maybe about his vitiligo or his other beautiful physical traits 🥺 Sometimes, when I write or read fics with this plot, I wish that Michael could’ve actually had someone say these things to him.
My heart aches when I realize he never knew how beautiful he was…and I hope that all our prayers and thoughts towards him — he can hear, whatever celestial plane he is in 🥹
Anyway, stay tuned for that fic! We gonna love our Mikey to the max, he’s our PYT 😂 Much love to you! ❤️
post-thriller era! michael jackson x secret wife/popular artist! female reader
summary. 46 artists get invited to sing ‘we are the world’ — you are one of them. trying to hide your marriage is a bit tricky — but hiding your laughter is a whole other level.
tags. romance, comedy, slightly suggestive (no explicit nsfw!), michael and you being the cutest family ever with your baby ❤️ also here, let’s pretend that michael’s siblings aren’t participating 😅
———————
It was a few nights before the American Music Awards. January 22, 1985. Michael was working almost late into the evening with Lionel, Stevie, and Q.
Along with some musicians, technicians, video crews, retinue, assistants, and organizers that were in the studio, brainstorming how to make this song work.
Michael huffed as Lionel played on the piano whilst Stevie suggested some melodies.
He sang along with Lionel to make a vocal guide for the other artists that they had planned to ask to collaborate on this single.
Michael sat down, waving to Stevie as his cousin left, leaving him, Lionel, and Quincy in the studio. Quincy stood up with a groan, stretching his back.
“I’m gonna go smoke, y’all keep brainstorming now.”
“Hey, stay here and help us, man!” Lionel retorted.
Quincy rolled his eyes playfully, pointing at the two of them.
“This y’all fault, y’all kept just playing and goofing around for months, now you stressed. You ain’t gonna get me stressed either.”
He said as Michael let out a laugh at Lionel just accepting Quincy’s answer with a sag on his shoulders.
“It’s okay, smelly. We can do this.” Michael laughed out, amused and excited to let this song create itself.
“It’s gonna be real hard to do this, Mike…we haven’t even created the list yet of the artists we want to join in.”
“Who do you have in mind?”
“Uhh…” Lionel grabbed a notepad and skimmed through it.
“Ray Charles, Billy Joel, Cyndi Lauper, Bruce Springsteen…”
Michael nodded as he played around with the equalizer board, making the beats and sounds that came to his brilliant mind. He took a sip of his orange juice.
“— Tina Turner, Dionne Warwick…and I was really hoping to get (Name) (Last) on the song but her management hasn’t responded yet.”
Michael’s eyes bulged out of his skull, thank god he was wearing his sunglasses, he was so surprised that he almost spat out his orange juice.
Lionel sighed whilst Michael wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“I know, she’s gonna be a hard one to ask, and it would be a miracle if she came. I heard she’s on a break or something after her tour a few months ago…”
Michael stayed weirdly silent for a long moment — staring into something, thinking.
Lionel snapped his fingers in front of Michael’s vision, snapping the young man out of whatever deep thought he was in.
“You alright, Mike? It is getting pretty late…you should probably go home and get some rest—“
“I can get (Name) Ja- (Last) to join in.”
Lionel blinked once, then twice.
“How?”
“Just trust me, I have my ways, smelly. Plus I have a feeling she’ll love what the purpose of this song is, she’s a humanitarian.”
“What?? What are you gonna do — charm her?”
Michael almost nodded.
He put his hand on Lionel’s shoulder, patting him firmly.
“Just trust me.”
———————
“Baby? I’m back!” Michael called out into the hallway of the Hayvenhurst home.
He took off his sunglasses and coat, going up the stairs and opening his bedroom door.
There, he saw you — his lady, his beautiful wife. Holding yours and his newborn.
You were fully knocked out from the joyful yet endlessly tiring journey of motherhood.
You wore a well-worn out maternity shirt, his flannel pajamas, mismatched socks and a pair — well, one slipper on your left foot.
Your hair was messy, framing your face as you snored.
Michael held back a giggle. You had started to snore after you gave birth, so many things about you changed.
From you performing in extravagant and glamorous outfits that clung onto your figure as you danced fiercely for millions — to now, where you were just a mother, caring for your child with the most precious smile on your face.
He caressed your cheek, he thought that you were the most beautiful right now.
“Michael…? Oh, welcome back, honey…sorry, I didn’t even realize that you came back home…”
You said, yawning as your baby slept in your arms soundly.
Michael took the newborn from your arms and cradled them in his, cooing softly, smiling as he held the whole world in his arms.
You smiled, blinking slowly.
“Sorry I came home later than usual, baby.” Michael whispered softly, taking your hand in his free one and kissing your knuckles.
“It’s okay.” You murmured as you sat up, rubbing your eyes, you then huffed when you saw the stains on your shirt.
Michael laughed. “Seems like the little one was giving you a hell of a time.”
“The little bugger’s just been so fussy lately…” You smiled. “But I wouldn’t exchange even one second of being with our baby for the world.”
Michael’s eyes shined, his heart swelling with affection and love for his family.
You snickered as you wiped Michael’s eyes. Oh gosh, was he crying? He didn’t even notice.
“I’m starting to think you were the one who gave birth to our baby, Michael…you even cried and looked more in pain when I was in labor.”
“I couldn’t handle seeing you like that…” He almost shouted before quieting down with a sheepish smile.
“I was in labor for like 5 minutes and our kid just popped out like a dream.”
“5 minutes too long.”
You and Michael laughed softly, keeping your giggles down as your baby slept in their daddy’s arms comfortably.
“Anyway…how’s it going with Lionel and Q, honey? Is the song scratched out of your mind now?”
Michael smiled slightly, standing up as he put the baby in the crib gently.
“Yeah…yep.”
“Michael. You have something to ask don’t you?”
Michael chuckled, you always read him so easily.
He sat back down next to you. “I know it might be too soon but…do you think you can perform with us for this song?”
You thought about it for a moment. “Well, what is it for?”
“Charity.” The brightest smile graced upon his face, making you blush and smile too. He grasped your hands in his. “We’re gonna raise money for the children and people in Africa who are suffering from famine.”
“Oh, Michael…of course, I will.” You said softly as you kissed his hands, he looked elated. “Plus, it’s been 3 months since the public saw me — I’m pretty sure some people think I’m dead.”
You and Michael laughed. He then pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your lips. You then moved your head, kissing him properly with the same amount of gentleness — revering each other with such love and understanding.
You both then pulled away.
Michael couldn’t hide how excited he was, his feet tapping and shifting on the carpet, you adored that look on his handsome face.
“It’s gonna be so amazing — 46 of the greatest artists of all time are gonna join us-“
Your eyes almost fell out of your skull.
“Wait- hold up now, applehead-“
“Hm?”
“You said what now?”
“46 of the greatest artists of all time are gonna join us? Including you and I.”
You stared at Michael incredulously.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes honey. We need all the traction we can get so that when we donate the proceeds, it’ll be more than enough to aide every family.”
Your shock was then replaced with a smile on your face, you laughed.
“Alright then. But are you sure you can keep your hands to yourself Mr. Jackson?”
“Absolutely. 100 percent to the millions and infinity.”
You raised an eyebrow as Michael scoffed playfully.
“Just so you know, I’m a professional, Ms. Jackson…or should I say, Ms. (Last).”
“Righttt…our management team will have a heart attack if the media finds out anything about us. Plus…I still wanna keep private about us. I like the quiet.”
Michael grinned, letting you rest your head on his sturdy shoulder.
“Me too. I treasure these moments more than anything.”
“Let’s just try to keep our distance when we film the song.” You suggested as Michael’s smile softened a little.
“Of course. Here’s the guide.” He said softly as he handed you a tape.
You looked up at his expression and caressed his hand.
“You sure you can do this?”
“Yeah…plus, I can have my hands all over you afterwards.”
“Michael!”
———————
January 28, 1985.
You were at the American Music Awards, after 3 months of basically disappearing from the public eye, the media was clamoring and shaking in excitement as they saw you again.
The cameras flashed heavily as you arrived on the red carpet, wearing a silk dress in your favorite color with gold embellishments that secretly reminded you of Michael’s own style.
You smiled softly as the photographers took photos of you, your eyes easily adjusting to the flashes.
The other biggest artists at the venue then greeted you warmly, giving you hugs and asking if you were alright. You were more than alright.
Tina Turner then called out to you, you let out an excited laugh as you saw one of your idols and your dear friend after a long time, you gave her a warm hug.
“Tina! I missed you…” “I missed you too, sugar.” She then lowered her voice as you smiled.
“Where’s Michael?” “Oh, he’s preparing for the song, y’know.” You whispered back to her as she then thumbs upped and ushered you to sit down next to her.
She was one of the only few people who knew about yours and Michael’s secret — the biggest secret in Hollywood.
After a while, Lionel was up on stage hosting the award show. You could tell that he was a bit stressed from arranging the secret biggest night of pop.
He then announced your name as the winner of the Favorite Pop/Rock Female Artist. You went up on stage, a bit surprised that you were even nominated because you’ve been in a break for a long time in Hollywood standards.
———————
Michael looked around him, taking a break from recording his solo parts in the song whilst he sipped warm water. He then switched on the television to the channel broadcasting the award show.
He felt a sense of pride and joy well up in him as he watched you go up on stage, looking so beautiful and just positively radiating, accepting the award from Lionel.
His gaze was fixiated on you. You were his wife. His wife. God, even after all this time he can’t believe it.
You were about to give your speech when suddenly a technician came in.
He almost choked on air as he hastily switched the channel to a random cooking show, he cleared his throat awkwardly — adjusting his sunglasses.
The technician just looked at him weirdly and they sighed. “Uh…the artists will be coming soon, Mr. Jackson, please prepare.”
He just gave them a stiff thumbs up.
Michael then let out a cartoonish breath that he was holding when they left.
He wiped his hands on his slacks.
Maybe this was gonna be harder than he thought…
———————
After the award show, late into the night, Lionel finally arrived at the recording venue with 46 of the greatest artists of all time. From Bob Dylan all the way to Huey Nelson, almost every legend arriving to support in this cause.
Michael’s heart warmed at all the different artists greeting each other warmly, showing each other support. It was such a spiritual moment.
Lionel then went up to Michael. A smile on the older man’s face, as Michael adjusted his glasses.
“Isn’t this just amazing Mike? …This is gonna be great.”
“I know.”
Lionel then counted all of the artists in the room and sighed. You still haven’t arrived yet.
Suddenly, Tina let out an excited laugh as she saw you enter.
You hugged her as the other artists greeted you, excited that you were performing with them.
Lionel patted Michael’s back, making him laugh.
“Did you really convince her to join us?!”
“Yeah…y’know, worked my magic, that type of thing.”
You then walked up to Lionel, giving the man a warm handshake and small hug.
“Thanks for joining us, (Last)!”
You smiled a little tightly at that, it took you every fiber in your body not to correct him.
“Just call me (Name). And it’s a pleasure.” You said softly.
You then turned towards Michael, a professional smile on both of your faces but a trained eye could see the secret tension in both of your eyes.
You held out your hand to him and he shook it firmly — holding the grip a second too long.
“Thank you for inviting me to such a wonderful cause, Mr. Jackson.” You said politely, but you had a hint of something in your tone, making Michael bite his lower lip and smile.
“It wouldn’t have been perfect without you Ms…(Last).”
He said, his voice deepening a little at the end.
Your eyes were half lidded as you smiled and turned away, you walked away with his eyes behind his sunglasses trailing you. He hated to see you leave…but for sure loved to watch you go —
“Man, only you can bring the (Name) (Last) out of a break.” Lionel laughed out as Michael snapped out of it.
“I guess so…” He chuckled out.
Lionel then clapped his hands loudly, calling everyone’s attention to start the filming process.
You and Michael stood far away from each other, but you both eyed each other with amused and hidden looks.
———————
Irritated was the most mild way that you could describe how Michael felt in this moment. His leg bounced restlessly on the floor as he listened to each artist sing their lines.
It was like everyone was suddenly off-tune and tone deaf.
He had a tight lipped smile as he murmured to Quincy, “One more time.”
You glanced at Michael and closed your eyes, holding back your laughter, your nostrils flaring.
To everyone, he looked like he was happy, afterall he was smiling right?
But please, of all the years you’ve two been together, there has been no person more obvious that they were mad than your husband.
Difference of Michael happy and irritated:
Michael being happy; moving or shuffling to the music, his smile reaches his eyes behind his sunglasses.
Michael being irritated; just stands there. Stares. His smile turns into one of someone who works in retail.
And that was what he was exactly doing right now.
You cleared your throat as you gathered up the strength to not laugh.
Michael let out a slow, very deep sigh that was disguised as a deep breath.
“Um…wait. Stop. What if we let (Name) sing the chorus?” He suggested to Quincy.
You perked your head up at the mention of you, catching Michael’s gaze. You smiled a little. “No problem for me.” You said softly.
You held back another laugh when you saw how visibly relaxed Michael became when you agreed.
“We are the world, we are the children…We are the ones who make a brighter day, so let’s start giving.” You sang out beautifully, your voice was confident and healing, making Michael finally smile up to his eyes.
Then his smile gradually disappeared when Bob Dylan sang after you, his voice cracking.
You swear you almost shed a tear in front of the camera, your shoulders shook slightly when you saw in your peripheral Michael’s face.
Lionel rubbed his temples. “Uh, can we get another take? Sorry.” He said as he looked at you with an apologetic smile, you shook your head.
You and Stevie then helped Bob Dylan try to get his confidence back, to let his voice out. Michael stared at you with amazement, even with others — you were so caring. The next take went on with ease.
———————
After a while, you were all finally almost done with the filming and recording of the song. All the artists were currently taking a break. Including you and Michael.
You were sat in a chair near a plant as Michael leaned on the wall next to you, his pant leg brushing against your arm a little.
You bit your lower lip, your willpower was wavering real hard. You’ve been holding back your laugh for almost 2 hours.
Michael glanced at you, a small pout on his face.
“Baby…what are you laughing at?” He murmured quietly.
You sniffled and hid your mouth.
“What do you mean?”
“Baby…”
“Sorry, applehead — it’s just that…” Your voice shook slightly as you inhaled slowly.
“Your face is so obvious that you’re irritated.”
“What?” He sputtered out quietly. “I’ve been smiling though…”
“Yeah. But then you suddenly stop moving and just stare…” You said with your eyes closed, as if that would stop you from replaying the memory.
Michael couldn’t hold back his own chuckle. “Sorry, it’s just that what kind of notes are they even hitting? Are those even notes…”
You clenched your jaw at that, shoulders shaking as you stood up.
He smiled at you as you turned around and laughed without sound at the wall.
You then turned around with tears rolling down your face. You dabbed them with a napkin.
Michael then secretly hooked his pinky with yours.
“Try to keep holding back your laugh to yourself, baby.”
“Okay. I can’t promise you but…I’ll try. Talk to you later.” You whispered as you walked away.
Michael smiled to himself, his irritation melting away briefly from his body. He was really happy that you were here, if not — he probably would’ve combusted.
———————
Michael could almost cry, they were about to be done with recording, just the bridge and chorus with all the artists left.
It had only been a few hours, but it felt like years. Retake after retake…he couldn’t wait to go home and relax with you.
He adjusted the headphones on his ears, he thumped his foot to the tempo of the song.
The cameras then started rolling.
“When you’re down and out, there seems no hope at all…” He sang out beautifully.
Making you and Tina smile where you guys were sitting on the couch.
.
.
.
“BUT IF YOU JUST BELIEVE THERE’S NO WAY WE CAN FALLLL”
Oh my god.
“WAH, WAH, WELLL LET US REALIZE THAT CHANGE CAN ONLY COMEEEE”
You lowered your head as Michael started scooching and slowly walking away from that mess.
“WHEN WE…”
The three then all sang together ‘beautifully’
“STAND TOGETHER AS ONEEE”
“YEAHHH”
You stood up promptly when Quincy stopped the recording, going outside.
You hear someone close the door behind you and you see Michael.
Michael couldn’t hold back anymore and almost fell to his knees, laughing. He didn’t know if he was irritated anymore because what the hell was that??
You burst out laughing next to him, almost falling into his arms.
Well, this night was just perfect.
———————
Finally, it was the group chorus with all of the artists. You all stood together, and coincidentally, you and Michael got to stand together.
You smiled a little and he did too, the cameras then started rolling as you all sang together.
You suddenly felt something hook onto your pinky, and you already knew it was Michael’s own pinky. You secretly squeezed his, making his lips quirk up as he just lipsync’d to everything now.
You were obviously captured by the camera laughing for a brief second but Michael didn’t care for a retake anymore.
Plus, you looked so beautiful when you laughed.
.
.
.
Extra:
You and Michael woke up the next day, your management had sent you the photos that were taken during filming. You shuffled through them, admiring Michael’s candid photos with an affectionate smile and so did Michael for your photos.
You then looked at the group photos and raised an eyebrow. In every single one with you and Michael in it…he was obviously staring at you despite his glasses blocking his vision.
“Michael.”
“Hm?”
You held up a photo of him blatantly staring at you in the back whilst you laughed with Tina, the biggest, love-struck smile on his face.
“Oh…oops.” He said cheekily as he looked at you with that same smile.
You couldn’t help but blush and smack his shoulder playfully. “You’re too obvious.”
“I can’t help it — you’re my wife!”
———————
note: whew this one is kinda long idk abt it…haha 😅 it always cracks me up when i see footage of michael in the behind the scenes of WATW 😂😂 much love to all of you!
Wow 🤩👏 I’d just like to share this phenomenal work by this amazing author! Every single work is simply a masterpiece ✨ From angst to fluff, it’s all so heartwarming and wholesome 🥺 I highly recommend that you guys read their work 🫶
