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Content: In which Michael visits his favorite barista after hours
It was just about time to close, the lively energy from the day finally coming to an end as many of the customers packed up their belongings, the ambiance of chairs scraping against the smooth wooden floors filling your ears and the smell of ground coffee overwhelming your senses as it seeped into your clothes.
You glanced over the small shop, making sure that the last of the customers were out before flipping the sign to close, one of the things that was a part of your usual routine, but what had just become new to the routine was Michael.
It really started as an honest mistake; he was just looking for some place quiet, some place where he could get away from the hustle and bustle of his glamorous life. He really had no idea you were closed, well until he pulled the handle of the door right as your fingers met with the lock.
His outfit was casual, compared to his usual bling, just a simple sweater and trousers. His hair was in its usual fro, the curls wrapped messily around each other.
“Oh uh, were you closed?” He spoke nervously through the small crack that connected the inside of the shop to the outside world, voice soft like a kid that had just been scolded.
“I was just about to close for the night, but you're welcome to have a seat while I clean!” You spoke, pushing the door open so that he could step inside.
“Are you sure? I mean I really don't want to be a burden,” his eyes glanced over the empty shop, the chairs that had been neatly pushed in, the smell of coffee that took over his nostrils.
“Not at all! Come in.”
That was the moment he decided this would be his new after-hours spot.
The environment was calming, making his worries from the day and the stress from his upcoming solo album melt away.
“Like coffee? It's on the house.” You glanced his way, stepping behind the counter as he made himself comfortable in his seat.
“Not a fan,” he laughed nervously, looking down at his fingers.
“Ah, it's okay,” you giggled to yourself, scrubbing at some of the coffee residue that had been building up throughout the day.
It was a simple interaction, a simple act of kindness. Of course, everyone knew Michael Jackson, the kind that sang ABC and I Want You Back, but whether you knew it or not, you didn't say much. You treated him like he was just your average person, like you didn't want anything from him, but instead wanted to get to know him, and that was something he missed in his life.
“Back again?” You giggle, watching as he settled onto the top of the table, letting his feet hang off the edge, his head hanging low as he let out a laugh of his own.
“Yeah, and I've been workin on my new album, I'm really excited for it,” his eyes lit up, like a kid showing off their new toy.
“It's something that I think would make people wanna dance, y'know?” he glanced at you, taking in your features that made him get this funny feeling in his stomach.
“That's really exciting, Mikey! I'm proud of you.”
“Hopefully I’ll be first to hear it,” you joked, wiping the seats down to get them ready for the next day, the light sound of the spray bottle filling the room.
“How about I take you after this?”
“You really would?” There was a hint of surprise that slipped past your lips as you asked the question. Maybe you were shocked to see that he felt comfortable enough to even let you listen in on something he was so proud of and ready to share with the world.
“Yeah, of course I would, silly,” he chuckled, finally hopping off the table, the soft tap of his shoes hitting the wooden floors, catching your attention.
“I'll just finish up here and we can go.”
There was a faint flutter in Michael's stomach hearing the words. Maybe it was the fact that you used a tone that was calm enough to ease his soul, calm enough to stop any of those unwanted doubts in his head, or maybe it was the fact that from day one you showed him something that seemed to be so rare for him—kindness.
Content: in which Michael's running a fever, yet refuses to stop practicing
A/n: I wrote this with otw Michael in mind, but it can be any era!
“Enough, Michael!” Your voice boomed over the music that blared from the speakers before your fingers moved towards the plug, abruptly cutting the music. The silence that fell amongst the room was almost deafening; the only thing that could be heard was the sound of his ragged breathing, as you watched his chest heave up and down in a rhythmic pattern, sucking up every little bit of air around him, sweat dripping down his forehead and neck, pooling at the collar of his T-shirt.
“But, baby—”
Classic Michael. Using pet names to deflect as soon as he was cornered.
“No, you're clearly not feeling well, yet you'd rather drop dead than admit it and give it a rest.” You crossed your arms, eyes narrowing at his sweaty form. The room felt hot and stuffy, small waves of air hitting the room from the open door, but it wasn't enough to cut through the humidity of the room.
“C'mon, you know I have to practice… I have to be perfect,” his voice was uneven, still catching his breath from the intense dance session that happened moments before. His knees seemed wobbly as he tried his best to hold eye contact. His hand pressed against the wall to steady himself, against the weight of his fatigue and fever. He looked absolutely exhausted, eyes heavy and half-lidded, shoulders hanging low.
“Mike, you've been in the spotlight for so long, performing for fans all over, I think you deserve to give yourself a break. I mean, look at you, you're on the verge of collapsing.” You looped your arm around his own sweaty arm. His skin was hot and flushed, like it could burn your own, but you didn't care. The only thing on your mind currently was keeping him upright.
“Let's get you back to bed, okay? I'll get you a compress and some soup. How does that sound?” You glanced at his features, completely drained of all the energy he had left.
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The woman who seemingly couldn't keep her hands off your man. Her fingers lingering on her own skin, small playful slaps on the shoulder, the way she'd lean in close like she couldn't hear when the afterparty got too loud, her nose nearly touching his cheek when she knew you were watching.
It was pathetic, really, sick even.
A woman that old toying with someone much younger, not to mention that she clearly knew Michael was completely devoted to someone who wasn't her. The way she'd glance your way with that stupid smile of hers before she'd burst Michael's personal space bubble.
Michael wasn't oblivious. He never was.
He knew exactly how you felt about the relationship he and Diana had. In fact, he'd make it obvious that the love that he once had for her was completely gone as he tried his best to scoot away from her.
“Mikey, can't you see that she still has some weird obsession with you?” You spoke in his ear, the warmth from your breath and the smell of your perfume sending chills down his spine.
“I know, baby, but—" His sentence was cut off by the grating sound of Diana's voice calling out his name.
“Michael! So nice to see you! And congrats on all those awards tonight." She looked him up and down, admiring his body like she was the one dating him.
There were only a few words that came to mind: I know this bitch did not.
"Furious" was an understatement, your skin prickling with the heat of pure anger. She knew all the right things to press to get you heated, especially when it came to Michael, who, by the way, is YOUR man, not Diana's.
“Thank you." Diana moved her hand so that it was strategically grasping Michael's own hand.
Oh, you were fed up. First, she ignores you; okay, fine, you didn't like each other anyway. Then she eyes-fucks your man. Oh, hell no. Lastly, she goes out of her way to grab his hand, too? Oh fuck no. It was about time Diana had been told about herself, and you were going to be the one to do it.
"Diana," your voice was just barely heard over the blaring music and singing of the afterparty, yet your voice was calm, almost too calm.
“Don't you think you should leave a taken man alone? Especially at your age?” You emphasized that last part.
“Oh, I'm just being friendly! Don't be dramatic."
Dramatic? You were being dramatic?
“Dramatic? You know what? Let me tell you something, Diana, this is my man, not yours. Whatever sick twisted thing you had with him is dead. Do you hear me? Or do I have to fuck you up for you to get that through that head of yours?” At this point you seemed louder than the music, earning a few stares from the people around you, who'd stopped dancing just to see what would go around.
“Baby, look—" he started, only to be immediately shut down by a look that could only be described as a “shut the hell up or I'll deal with you personally."
“There's no need to be like that. Michael and I go way back." She tried cracking another joke that fell on deaf ears.
“I don't think you get it. I don't care! Leave him alone.” Honestly, you hated being in this situation. The situation of you yelling while others were around caught at the forefront of the fire, and if steam coming out of your ears was a real thing, they'd definitely be able to see it. The only thing you could think to do was grab Mike's hand and get the hell out of there. No more talk, no more bickering.
There was a moment of silence as you led Michael to the car, your hand wrapped tightly around his own, walking so fast that he nearly tripped over his own feet before he finally let out a laugh.
“It's not funny, Mikey, I was really going to fuck that bitch up.” You spoke, crawling in the back of the car that waited around back for you.
"Oh, I believe it," he laughed again, his hand pressed against your thigh as he took a second to catch his breath.
“Absolutely not funny. I'm sick of her."
“I know, baby, but you know I only have eyes for one person… Diana, just kidding." He laughed again, this time louder, nearly doubling over in his seat.
“Stop it!” You turned away from him, facing the window, completely ignoring him as he tried his best to make up for the terrible joke.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ Michael who tries his best to take a selfie of the two of you on his new phone
Pairing: Michael x reader
Everyone knew Michael was terrible when it came to new technology. Hell, he didn't even know why he'd just bought the newest iPhone when he didn't know the first thing about phones or any of these gadgets the kids used these days.
“Baby, c'mere," he called out from the bathroom, his voice as calm and soft as always as he tried his best to take the perfect mirror selfie. The camera zoomed so far that the only thing you could see was the upper half of his body.
“Hm?” You let out an amusing hum as you leaned against the wooden frame of the door, a small creak emitting from the old frame.
“Come closer, I want to take a selfie." His oversized hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to himself.
“For one mike, the camera is too zoomed in. You can't even see me!” You placed two fingers on the small screen, moving them closer together so that the two of you could be shown properly.
“See, so much better!” You spoke, letting both of your arms wrap around his waist, your head positioned so that you were looking into the mirror.
“Big smile! Say cheese!” He spoke before the sound of the camera taking a picture of the moment the two of you would cherish forever.
“Let me see."
And oh boy was the picture terrible.
Your smiles were barely visible with the blurriness of the photo, blobs of color that anyone who didn't know who you two were would've thought was haunting ghost footage.
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Content: In which, after your multiple music successes, the Michael Jackson calls your phone
A/n: inspired by the multiple stories of celebrities hanging up on Mike LMAOO
It hadn't been long since you started your career—maybe a year? But who was really counting anymore? You sure weren't.
It all started with your first successful music video that caught the attention of the viewers at home. It was everything they wanted at the time. It was fresh, funky, and best of all: danceable.
It didn't take long for your song to be played all over the place. MTV, radio stations, malls, grocery stores, clubs—anywhere you could think of, your song was there. By this point you'd developed a loyal fan base, eager to see if the next song you put out could top the last one, and as expected, it did.
Fast forward to today. Your schedule was tight. Interviews all day and you were exhausted, feet aching from the heels that caused the heels of your feet to become tender and sore from the constant running around. To be honest, there was nothing you wanted more than to be left alone with the light hum of the air conditioner and sheets that seemed to engulf you completely.
That thought was disturbed by the sound of the phone ringing, a heavy sigh slipping from your lips as you stepped onto your already sore feet.
“Hello? Who is this?”
Complete silence.
"Um."
Confused wasn't even the word at this point.
"Hello, this is Michael"
The voice was soft and familiar, yet you couldn't put your finger on it.
“Michael who?”
“Jackson”
Click.
Your fingers moved faster than your brain could comprehend, and just like that, you'd hung up on Michael Jackson. There were few thoughts that ran through your mind as you processed what exactly happened.
'No way, I just hung up on Michael Jackson. Wait, no, that definitely wasn't him. No way, that was definitely his voice, but why could he be calling me?'
It didn't take long for the phone to ring once more. Cautiously you pick up the phone like it might bite you if you touched it, leaning back like you were afraid of what, no, who was waiting for you on the other side.
“Hello?” Your voice was much smaller than when you originally answered the phone.
"Y'know, I really like your music, it's great."
Part of you wanted to hang up a second time, because there was absolutely no way. It was hard to even form a proper sentence given the circumstance.
“Uh, t-thank you, it means a lot coming from you."
“You're welcome! I'm sure you have a busy schedule coming up, but keep up the good work."
And just like that it was over. You blinked rapidly, wondering if this was real. Hell, were you even real?
⤷ Otw!Michael, who loves to scare you just to see your face as you playfully swat at his shoulder.
⤷ Otw!Michael, whose favorite thing to do is dance with you. Whether it's around the house in the early hours of the morning or late at night when his family finally settles down.
⤷ Otw!Michael, who spends hours daydreaming of you, making little doodles of you in his notebook with some of his demo lyrics next to them.
⤷ Otw!Michael loves it when you stay up late with him, your fingers running through his fro, gently detangling it.
⤷ Otw!Michael loves to introduce you to the exotic pets he has, teaching you how to properly handle them and giving you some fun facts with each animal he introduces you to.
⤷ Otw!Michael loves you being in the studio with him because it motivates him even more.
⤷ Otw!Michael who nudges you in the middle of the night just to share something he thought about randomly.
⤷ Otw!Michael, whose eyes light up when you mention that you love the sound of his album.
⤷ Otw!Michael, who talks for hours about the music he wants to make, the person he wants to be, and the fans he wants to have, all while holding your hand, his fingers pressed tightly around your own.
⤷ Otw!Michael, who absolutely adores you, often gifts you random items that remind him of you or leaves strategically placed notes for you to find.
Content: Mike going live just to show the things he loves the most
A/n: pretend like insta existed 🫣
Michael was terrible when it came to social media. He knew it; the fans knew it; hell, even you knew it, yet every time he had a little bit of free time, the first thing he'd do was ask you to help him set up an Instagram live.
“Baby? Can you help me with this instacam stuff?” His glasses were pushed to the edge of his nose, almost sliding right off.
“Instagram, Mike, Instagram.” You giggled to yourself as you took the phone from his hands, tapping a few times on the screen until the camera popped up, revealing the top of Michael's head.
“Babe, you need to adjust the camera by moving it lower and farther away from your face so that you can be fully seen.” You move the phone lower and farther away from his face so that he can be fully seen.
Immediately, the fans came flooding in, the numbers climbing rapidly, hitting over a million viewers.
“Hello, everybody," he spoke in his usual soft tone, glancing over the comments, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to respond to them, but they moved way too fast for his eyes to catch up.
Mjglazer: Mike, do a moonwalk tutorial!!
Angel.facee: Wink for the camera!
“I want to show you all a few things from some of my music videos!” He was excited, even if it was his third time going live to show his memorabilia.
“As you may know, this jacket is from Thriller." He showed off the iconic red jacket.
"Oh, and this is from Remember the Time."
“One last thing, my beautiful wife." He laughed from his chest, making an attempt to angle the camera perfectly to show all his features.
“Mike, stop, I'm not ready for the camera!” You tried to press your palm against the camera of the small phone, but Michael was quicker and moved away before your hand could cover it.
“You look beautiful! See, they think so too!” He laughed again, completely immersed in capturing every inch of you.
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⋆.𐙚 ̊ Imagine Michael after a long day of taking care of Prince and Paris
Michael, with his hair all messy and pajamas disheveled after a long day of taking care of Prince and Paris. His eyes were heavy, and his brain was foggy with the sole thought of getting even a wink of sleep, but that wasn't happening with two kids constantly tugging at his sleeve, or his pants, begging for something sweet before bed, their small giggles somehow brightening the small, dimly lit room.
It was a sight that you'd seen on more than one occasion, yet every time it never failed to make you giggle.
“No, Prince, no cookies before bed." His voice was firm, yet still held that soft tone as he ran his hand through his already unruly hair.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Imagine watching thriller! Michael recording The lady in my life
Pairing: Thriller! Michael x reader
A/n: not my best work, but I was so eager to get this out my head, so sorry in advance (𖦹﹏𖦹;)
It wasn't unusual for Michael to bring you in the studio with him. In fact, you were always there, carefully soaking in every bit of his singing from your usual spot inside the vocal booth. Even outside of the studio, his mind never quieted down, the ideas of new songs plaguing his thoughts while he made a desperate attempt to sleep.
“Q, I-I really can't, I'm too shy." His large hands flung to his face, hiding the heat that was pooling behind them, before pulling them away, his eyes darting towards your usual spot in the corner, through the glass that separated the two of you from Quincy.
"C'mon, Mike, you have to beg; really feel it." Quincy leaned back in his seat, his pen doing a seesaw motion in between his fingers.
“I'll try, just once, but we have to close the curtains and dim the lights too, if you could."
It didn't take long for his request to be fulfilled, as the once bright studio lights dimmed down, the curtains drawn tight, enveloping the room in a comforting darkness.
Michael took one deep breath, the instrumental playing softly in his ear, the lyrics slipping past his lips. At that moment, he didn't sound shy. He sounded like a man who knew exactly what he wanted and was desperate to have it, like he was longing to have you and only you. His voice sounded raw and heavy with a vulnerability he'd only show you.
"Lie back with me.
Let me touch you, girl.
Lie back with me.
All over, all over, all over
All over, all over, all over
All over, babe. Woo.
You're my lady.
You're my lady, babe."
There was a moment of silence. The room felt weighed down with a sense of desire and passion once he was done. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling as he slowly took his headphones off as Quincy pulled back the curtains, a wide grin plastered on his face as he clapped his hands together, approving of the take.
“Now that's it, Mike! That's what I'm talking about."
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