bow ୨୧

ℬackstage buzzed with energy— crew members talking into their little headsets as they shuffled by while the Jacksons got their final touch ups. You stood nearby, out of the way as you conversed with LaToya.

“You guys are on in five!”

With overlapped chatter the brothers arise from their seats with fresh curls and powdered faces. They gathered into a little circle to perform their ritual— something they do before every show— uplifting each other with chants and grunts to brings about a high, positive energy. The brothers filed toward the entrance. You gave him an achingly sweet boop on his nose as he passed by, “you’re gonna do great, baby.”

“Wait—“ Michael peeled away from his brothers, stopping in front of you. You titled your head curiously, eyes darting to the sparkly backs of his brothers to his hesitant face.

“A kiss for good luck?” he asked shyly, peering through his lashes with those big doe eyes— like he was guilty for asking such a favor.

Your heart tightened and you couldn’t help but pout— could he get any cuter than this. “Of course, angel,” you coo’ed, cupping his jaw to press a soft peck to his lips. His breath tickled your upper lip as he let out a sigh of satisfaction. The tension he didn’t know he had eased in his shoulders, lips curving into a smile.

He knew damn well he had about three minutes to get on that stage— but kissing you while everyone is waiting on him is such a rush! And makes him even more giddy for the performance.

“Where is Michael!?” Asked of the exasperated backstage crew.

He wasn’t hard to find.

As expected, all wrapped up around you with zero regrets. When you pulled away, his boyish grin stretched for miles as he gazed into your eyes lovingly. You pressed one more peck to his nose— careful of his makeup— and motioned him along.

Jackie and Tito let out a quiet huff of laughter with a shake of their head, while Randy Marlon gagged “Keep up that sappy shit, and I might just throw up on stage.”

Michael flushed and rejoined his brothers, keeping his face out of view. Looking over his shoulder one last time, you waved with your fingers and a mouthed a quick Love you.

He bit his lip as he and his brothers took their places.

‘I should I do this more often.’

invincible!michael x single mother! reader

summary: zain finally meets michael again and build an extra special connection with him and his mama - PART 3

read part 1 and part 2 before this!

long awaited but finally here

you and michael had finally established a day for him to meet zain again after multiple back and forths - his 5th birthday.

“okay, baby. which outfit do you want to wear? this white shirt or the blue one? remember you’re wearing shorts as well”

you held two shirts on hangers whilst being crouched in front of him. his index finger tapped gently on his chin whilst his lips twisted in thought.

“this one”

zain grabbed the white t-shirt in his hands, pulling it off of the hanger and placed it on the bed with his black jorts.

“are you excited for today? i know mikey has told you about some of the rides.. and the animals!”

you guided his pyjamas off of him and replaced them with his clean clothes.

“i know, mama! i can’t wait to see the gifaffes and the elephants, and go on the big rides!”

you giggled, “giraffes, darling”

he began to slightly jump up and down at the thought of the fun day.

“well, looks like someone is about to have the best birthday ever!”

michael had told you that he had sent a car to pick you up so you had a few minutes until it was meant to pull up.

zain was sat in the living room watching spongebob on the nickelodeon channel, very invested as his little feet swung on the sofa. so whilst he was distracted, you took a little time to ready yourself.

applying the pink to your lips and adding an extra spritz of the expensive perfume you had treated yourself too, fluffing your hair a little bit and popping your hip as you admired your reflection.

“mama! i think the cars here”

the car ride there was quite calm. zain had been telling you about the show he was watching and about the dream he had last night, the chauffeur smiling at him in the rear view mirror.

by the time you had arrived, zain was buzzing with excitement, unable to contain it. the door was pulled open on your side, allowing you to get out and help zain out.

the house before you both was unable to describe. it looked like something straight out of a disney movie and it matched michael perfectly.

michael had come bounding out of the house with a huge smile painted over his face, his hand waving ecstatically at your arrival.

“welcome to neverland, zain!”

zain had let out an excited squeal and ran towards michael where they had met in the middle of the path, michael picked him up and span him around, hugging him tightly to his chest.

“hi y/n.. how are you doing?”

“very well, thank you. you have a gorgeous home”, you hugged him, squishing zain between you and michael.

“thank you! it’s name is inspired by peter pan. you know that book, don’t you?”

“duh! it’s one of zain’s favourites as well!”

michael guided you both towards the rides, the huge ferris wheel catching your eye, as you audibly gasped and pointed it out to zain who let out a cute “wow!”

the sunlight beat its hot rays on you, zain’s hair shining from the strawberry scented curl cream which was ran through his hair earlier this morning.

it was sure to be messed up after the day he would have on the rides, however it was worth seeing the smile he had on his face throughout the day.

all day, zain had been on the go. jumping from ride to ride in hand with michael, and going to the animal exhibition to see all of his exotic animals.

at one point, michael had even managed to drag you onto one of the fastest rides there. he had handed zain over to one of his trusted workers to take to get slushies and ran to the opposite side of the neverland ranch.

he held your hand the entire way, even when it felt like it was breaking, he didn’t let go. when the ride took a dip, you quickly buried your head into his shoulder and he had placed his hand on the back of your head, steadying you round the sharp corners.

he whispered in your ear after you screamed, “it’s okay, mama. it’s nearly finished now”

by the end of the day, zain appeared to have had the best birthday of his lifetime. his eyes drooped and he had began to cling onto you more, but he could not miss any of the action as he refused to sleep.

“why don’t you just stay here? he looks like he’s about have the best sleep of his life.”

michael gently stroked zain’s head, looking between his sleepy face and your matching eyes.

“no, no.. we’ve already been here long enough, i don’t want to push it” you said, smiling at him sleepily.

“please. please stay here. i have the best room for him to sleep in with a night light and books and a bathroom”

you deliberated in your head, a line forming between your eyebrows which he wanted to smooth out with his thumb but held back.

“fine.. i guess we can if he’s so exhausted”

he jumped to his feet, a huge grin on his face and waiting to show you to your room.

“great! follow me”

he led you to zain’s bedroom, being extra quiet as to not disturb him sleeping on your shoulder.

“i think this room is maybe my favourite room in neverland, it’s so childlike and magical”

“i think zain will love this when he sees it”, giggling and gesturing to zain completely passed out on your shoulder.

after you had given zain a bath and placed him in the spare shorts and shirt you had brought in case of emergencies, he was comfortably asleep with a smile on his face.

you left the room and kept the door ajar so you would hear if zain woke up and found michael waiting for you in the hallway.

you crept towards him, his back facing you and it was obvious he hadn’t heard you leave.

“BOO!”

he shrieked loudly, his hands pressing against his chest and staring at you in bewilderment as you broke down laughing.

“what on earth!”

“i’m so sorry, it was too much of a good opportunity not to take”

he shook his head and began to walk away and lead you to your room.

“woah..”

the room was probably as big as your living room and kitchen combined and you truly felt like you were living the rich life.

“this room is huge”

michael stayed at the door, watching your amazed expression with a small smile as you walked around the room.

“i’ll let you rest, it’s been a long night”

you turned, nodding at him and grinning.

“yeah.. well, you rest too, you must be exhausted as well”

he scrunched his face up at the thought of the tiresome day he had and turned to walk out.

“michael!”

he stopped in his step, turning around to face you. watching you glance around nervously before walking towards him.

wrapping him up in a hug and pressing your face against his shoulder, and he reciprocated it after a few seconds of shock.

“thank you for giving zain the best birthday ever. i don’t know how i’d ever repay you but please, if you need anything, please ask”

“stay with me” he whispered quietly, so quiet that you couldn’t pick it up.

“huh?”

“oh.. i-uh.. don’t worry about it, i love zain with my whole heart and he deserves an amazing day dedicated to him”

you finally let go of him, taking a few steps back with your hands in the back of your jean pockets.

“goodnight”

later that night, michael lay in bed, his thoughts stopping him from falling asleep.

he had never felt this amount of love for anyone, and he had felt an overwhelming need to protect zain from any harm that would come his way.

and from the many phone calls you and him had had, he knew about how hard it was to bring zain up with the lack of money and struggle to find a stable job. he felt you deserved a lavish life and to be spoilt after raising zain to become an intelligent young boy, even through struggles.

eventually his eyes closed, his dreams filled with images of you and him raising zain as a family.

the next morning, he was awoken by a little hand tapping his arm. once his eyes opened, zain’s wild curls filled his vision.

“mikey..”

his arms clutched a teddy bear you had placed in his hands when he slept, his eyes wide and teary.

michaels shot up, mind still fogged with sleep and eyes droopy, moving to pull zain to sit on the bed beside him.

“what’s wrong, applehead?”

“i just got scared ‘cause when i woke up, i wasn’t at home and i couldn’t find my mama”

he leaned against michael’s chest as he looked around the room, one hand near his quivering lips.

“hey, hey.. its alright, mamas just down the hall”

zain began to lay down next to him and michael stroked his curls as he gradually fell asleep.

michael was meaning to get up and wake you up to check on zain, but the warmth of his bed caused him to fall asleep instead.

the next morning, he awoke and zain wasn’t beside him. he began to wonder if he had dreamt of last night.

the clanking of something hitting his kitchen counter made him perk up and leave his room to check if he was downstairs.

he saw zain sitting at the kitchen counter, his legs swinging on the high seat whilst eating cereal. your back was turned to him whilst you prepared your own breakfast.

“good morning” michael said, walking to sit beside zain on the seat.

“g’morning, mikey!”

zain smiled at him with a large grin, his words slightly muffled due to the cereal in his mouth.

“zain! don’t speak with your mouth full. morning, michael, zain told me about last night”

his eyes widened, wondering if you were angry at him.

“i’m so sorry, i was meaning to come and get you but i fell asleep instead and-”

“it’s okay! it’s no worries, really. i’m just glad zain had you to go to when he was upset.. we should probably get going soon though, i need to get zain’s things ready for school tomorrow”

“ah, okay. i’ll get a car ready for you”

for once, the large kitchen felt like it was full of life. zain’s loud giggles and slightly mispronounced words filled the silence, and you would occasionally wipe away the milk from the corner of his mouth with the napkin. michael had never laughed so much, and he realised that his heart wasn’t yearning for that familial love but felt fulfilled instead.

after breakfast, you had collected all of your belongings and readied yourself to leave.

michael knelt down, arms open and waiting for zain to hug him.

zain ran into his arms, arms tangling around his neck.

“m’gonna miss you, mikey”

“don’t worry, i’ll see you again soon! and neverland is always here for you to come and enjoy again”

michael looked up and saw you staring at the scene with a slightly glazed over look.

he stood up, zain still in his arms and walked over to you. he brought you in for a hug as well as you leant your head in his shoulder.

“thank you for having us and letting us stay over”

“as i said, i loved having you here, please feel free to come back”

once you had gotten in the car, michael felt his heart sink, that familiar loneliness creeping back in.

inside the car, zain had felt the same.

“mama.. i already miss him”

you pulled him to your chest, allowing him to express his sadness about leaving his new friend.

“i know, baby. me too”

Failed plan

Context: You try to treat Michael by paying for dinner. But he had another plan.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ Bad era ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

Music: Sure Thing / Miguel

Hi guys, I feel like this song will really get you into the story. Tell me what you think 💭

Dinner had been absolutely incredible.

As the waiter slid the leather check presenter onto the table, you decided it was time to deploy your plan. You had been hiding your credit card in your palm for the last twenty minutes, waiting for this exact moment.

Before Michael’s fingers could even reach across the table, you lunged forward with a grin, clapping your hand flat over the leather booklet.

"My treat tonight" you declared, trying to look as financially independent as possible.

"You always take care of everything. Tonight, I am a high roller. Put your wallet away."

He looked at your hand covering the bill, and then slowly raised his eyes to yours. Single dark curl fells perfectly over his forehead. He slowly leaned back into the seat, draping one arm casually over the backrest.

"A high roller, huh? Well... who am I to stop this kind gesture?"

He says, tilting his head watching you through thick, heavy lashes with a deeply indulgent, knowing smile.

"Just sit back and relax, Mr. Jackson. I've got this."

You slid your card into the slot, trying to be smooth, though your heart was already hammering just from the sheer weight of his undivided attention.

"Yes ma’am." Michael chuckled softly, He picked up his crystal water glass, taking a slow sip while his dark eyes locked onto yours.

You’re smiling ear to ear. Michael just watched you, his smile widening.

The waiter came back and placed the booklet back in front of you with an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry, but the transaction was already processed. The gentleman's card is on permanent file with the house. This meal was taken care of before you even sat down."

You blinked, looking at the waiter then to Michael.

"Did you really think I'd let you pay for your own dinner while you're out with me?" He said with a grin.

"You knew everything but let me do the whole speech!?” You pouted playfully, folding your arms.

Michael reached across the table, his thumb gently stroking your flushed cheek.

"You look too cute when you're trying to be the boss. I couldn’t help it." he giggled. He gave your arm a gentle tug, signaling it was time to leave. "Let’s get one thing straight, angel face. As long as you are with me, your money stays in your purse. I take care of you. Now let’s go home, I’ve been dying to be alone with you all day.”

He walked around the table, offering you his hand to stand up. You took his hand and gave in, wrapping your arms around his with a sigh, making him chuckle.

“You’ll never let me treat you, will you?”

“Not a chance.”

Michael to the rescue

Pairing: Otw!Michael x reader

Content: In which after a night out your heel snaps, resulting in Michael coming to the rescue !

The night sky was gorgeous.

The stars covered the night sky like a safety blanket, twinkling prettily in the darkness of the night, illuminated by just the moon, the stars, and the sweet sounds of you and Michael walking side by side, your fingers interlocked tightly with his own as the two of you laughed at some silly joke Michael had told, your heels leaving a satisfying clicking sound against the concrete.

𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉 𝟥: 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗋

bad!micheal x reader | chap 1 | chap 2 | chap 4 | m. list

𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒: 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗅 𝗃𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌𝗈𝗇. 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝗈𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆? 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓. 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗌𝖺𝖽𝖾, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝗅 𝖺𝗂𝗋, 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗂, 𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒/𝗇, 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗇, 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝖼𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖻 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀-𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗎𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗒, 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍; 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌/𝗂𝗌𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗆𝗎𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗏𝗎𝗅𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒, 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗇𝗈 𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒/𝗇'𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝖿𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀

you figured you'd just call tomorrow.

the next morning, you woke up before your alarm. you groaned, burying your face into your pillow for another 30 seconds before finally forcing yourself upright.

your phone was already lighting up. honestly, probably what woke you up.

jennifer

don't be late seriously. they’ll start without you.

who asked them to move up that call anyways?

your morning consisted of putting on a pink fitted button-up cardigan layered over a white collared top, with a pair of white pinstriped pants, and pointed pink heels. by the time you arrived, people were already moving around the studio with the kind of urgency that suggested everyone had been awake far longer than you.

“look who decided to join us,” jennifer said as you slid into the vanity chair with breakfast you'd brought with you.

“good morning to you too,” you spotted her in the mirror.

“its almost nine.”

“thats still morning.” you shot back, causing her to roll her eyes. you glanced down at your schedule while someone started on your hair.

studio from 9 to 1.

lunch at 2.

a meeting with aaron at 5. nothing out of the ordinary.

the morning blurred the way it always did. rewritten lyrics, takes that ran longer than they should have, and people calling your name from different directions until you stopped registering which was meant for you.

by the time lunch rolled around, you barely remembered what you had for breakfast. “you’re quiet today,” jennifer said as she sat in the chair across from you. you shrugged.

“i’m always quiet.”

“not like this,” she raised her eyebrows. you didn’t answer that. instead, you leaned back in your chair with a sigh.

you let your attention drift again, not really focusing on jennifer in front of you. meeting at 5 with aaron. you checked the time without thinking, second nature at this point.

only 2:37.

· · ─ ·ʚ 𝟕:𝟏𝟖𝐏𝐌 ɞ· ─ · ·

by the time you got home, the sky outside had started to soften into evening. it was the prettiest pink and purple sunset.

you kicked off your shoes at the door, dropped your bag without ceremony, and went straight to the kitchen for a bottle of water.

earlier, the meeting with aaron had run longer than it was supposed to.

of course it had. it always did.

you’d shown up thinking it would be a quick check-in on notes on arrangements, timing adjustments, a few decisions that could’ve easily been emails if anyone cared enough to make them that way.

“we need a stronger opening for the second half,” aaron said, flipping through pages in his notebook like the answers were written somewhere between the lines.

you leaned forward slightly in your chair. “stronger how?”

“energy-wise. pacing-wise. it dips right now.”

“it doesn’t dip,” you said automatically. he looked up at you and you held his gaze.

“it softens,” you corrected yourself, exhaling through your nose.

“that’s worse,” he said. you leaned back.

“not everything has to be loud the entire time.”

“it does if you want it to hit the way it’s supposed to hit.” you glanced down at the table, picking at the edge of a printed magazine. this was the part of the job no one really talked about. not the performance, not the interviews, not the parts people saw. this.

the back-and-forth. the negotiation of someone else’s vision of your work while you tried to keep your own voice somewhere inside it.

“we’ll adjust it,” you said finally.

aaron nodded like he’d expected that answer.

“good. also-” he kept talking, you kept listening. mostly.

your attention drifted in and out in the way it always did during meetings like this. enough to respond when needed, enough to nod at the right moments, but not enough to actually stay fully inside it.

by the time it ended, your head felt slightly heavier than when you walked in.

“you good?” jennifer asked as you stepped into the hallway, going upstairs to your bedroom.

“yeah,” you said automatically.

now, sitting at your desk, the silence felt different. what you’ve been wanting all day. 

you picked up the letter again. your thumb hovered over the number. this time, you didn’t hesitate as long.

“it’s just a call,” you said quietly, not to convince yourself, but to ground yourself.

you typed the number into your phone. no contact saved, no name, just numbers on a blank screen. 

after a moment, your thumb hovered over the call button. you could still back out, but you didn’t. you pressed it.

the phone began to ring.

· · ─ ·ʚ📍𝐒𝐘𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐘, 𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐀  𝟏𝟐:𝟏𝟕𝐏𝐌  ɞ· ─ · ·

the midday sun was sharp through the stadium corridor windows, bouncing off polished floors and metal railings until everything looked slightly overexposed.

rehearsal had been paused for a short break, one of those brief pauses where the entire production seemed to exhale at once. crew members shifted equipment on the stage in the distance, a few voices echoed somewhere down the hall, counting off timing cues for later.

now, michael was standing just off to the side of the corridor, half in shadow, half in light, a folded set list tucked under his arm. someone had offered him water a minute ago. he hadn’t taken it yet. his thoughts weren't on anything particular, just the next thing.

then his phone rang. loud against the background noise.

he looked down at his pocket automatically, pulling his phone. an unknown number with a california area code. he paused. still, his thumb hovered for half a second longer than necessary before he answered.

“hello?” he said, voice even, casual, already half expecting it to be someone from production.

“hello?” he said again, a little quieter this time.

“hi, this is y/n. is this michael?” he could hear your smile through the phone. his grip on the phone tightened slightly.

“y/n,” he repeated, smiling as if he couldn’t believe it.

“hi,” he finally said, a soft sound coming through the line that might’ve been a laugh. “i wasn’t sure if you’d actually call.”

behind him, the stadium noise picked up again for a moment, causing him to take a glance back. he didn’t move whilst hearing the echo of rehearsal restarting.

“yeah, i wasn’t sure either,” you admitted.

“so what changed?” you put your arm on your desk, resting your head on it. “nothing,” you said honestly.

he hummed at that, like he was taking the answer as it was instead of trying to read more into it. “it sounds like you’re busy,” you added, suddenly aware of the noise behind him.

“i was,” he said. “i’m not right now.” you nodded, forgetting he can’t see.

“i’m sorry — did i call at the wrong time? i checked the time before i called but-“

“you did?” now, you could hear his smile. “yes, but i didn’t consider what you’d be doing at the moment.”

“i’m on rehearsal break,” he said after a moment, like he felt the need to explain the background noise now. “it’s night here,” you replied. “i figured,” he said lowly.

somehow, that simple acknowledgment made the distance feel a little less awkward. “is it late?” he asked

“not really,” you replied, glancing toward the clock on your iMac without really meaning to. “it’s only 7.”

you could hear faint movement again through the phone. someone calling his name somewhere down the corridor, the sound distant enough that it didn’t fully pull him out of the moment, but close enough to remind you it wasn't just the two of you.

“you should probably get back to whatever you were doing,” you added, even though you didn’t move to hang up.

“i probably should,” he agreed, but neither did he.

that alone made you look down at the desk, fingers lightly resting on the edge of the letter.

“are you always this busy?” you asked before you could stop yourself. a small exhale came through the line.

“most days,” he said honestly. “but it’s not all the same.” you tilted your head slightly at that.

“what’s different about today?” another pause, shorter this time. “today i’m talking to you,” he said simply. it wasn’t said like it meant anything dramatic.

just fact.

still, it made you quiet for a second longer than you intended. you let out a small breath, almost a laugh, but not quite.

“what about you?” he asked then. “what were you doing before you called?”

you glanced around your room like the answer was written somewhere on the walls.

“working,” you said simply, “a lot of working.”

“that sounds familiar,” he said. you smiled a little at that. it felt strange how easy it was to talk without seeing him, how there was no pressure to fill space with anything other than words.

a voice called out louder on his end again, closer this time.

“michael,” someone said, sharper now.

he finally shifted.

“hold on,” he said into the phone, not rushing it, just acknowledging it.

you nodded again out of habit before realizing, again, he couldn’t see that. “yeah,” you said instead. there was a brief rustle, like he’d turned slightly away from the noise. 

“i have to go back in a minute,” he said, quieter now.

“yeah,” you repeated.

“i’m glad you called, it was wonderful to hear from you,” he added.

“…yeah,” you said softly, smiling. “me too.”

and for a second, neither of you hung up. he exhaled softly through the line.

“i’ll… talk to you later. enjoy the rest of your night,” he said, like he wasn’t entirely sure what that was supposed to look like yet, but it felt right to say anyway.

“you as well, michael. bye.” the call ended.

you sat there for a moment, phone still pressed lightly to your ear even though nothing was there now. the letter sat open beside you, the ink at the bottom suddenly looking different than it had an hour ago.

across the world, sydney had already moved on without him. rehearsal picked back up almost immediately.

but something about it all felt slightly out of sync.

he didn’t look at his phone again right away either, he just stood there for a second longer than necessary, set list still tucked under his arm, like he was trying to place the feeling somewhere it made sense.

“you good?” someone asked as he still stood.

he nodded automatically. “yeah,” he began walking back to the stage, face flushed. 

“it was just a call,” you said out loud, like repeating it might help it settle back into something ordinary. it didn’t really work.

you got up and went downstairs to the kitchen, turned the tap on, let the sound fill the space for a moment too long. anything to replace the quiet as you were about to make a cup of tea. 

still, somewhere in the back of your mind, his voice still lingered in the shape of words that weren’t there anymore.

but for both of you, something had shifted slightly off its usual rhythm.

and neither of you had decided what to do with that yet.

@quietlyscornfulfable ᨳଓ @ooooglymoooogly ᨳଓ @plan3tch1ld ᨳଓ @sleepy-batz ᨳଓ @neatachillies ᨳଓ @sukunasstomachtongue ᨳଓ @solelypyt ᨳଓ @dear2004 ᨳଓ @moonwalker4you ᨳଓ @drewstarkeylov3r ᨳଓ @tinitaeyong ᨳଓ @mynameisnicolle ᨳଓ @glokenn ᨳଓ @yennabow ᨳଓ @pimplucious ᨳଓ @leelysian ᨳଓ @shamonemjshamone ᨳଓ @radiantpactthreshold ᨳଓ @l8nightreads ᨳଓ @tubatututuz ᨳଓ @applehead-luvr ᨳଓ @ang3laria ᨳଓ @ketaira ᨳଓ @eternal-life94 ᨳଓ @universesweetheart ᨳଓ @kneelarmhstrung ᨳଓ @faercia ᨳଓ @muddyloserlia ᨳଓ @apyr-b-mockbe ᨳଓ @cunty000 ᨳଓ @junkie05 ᨳଓ @flesheatingvamp ᨳଓ @mjssluttyfish ᨳଓ @khxna ᨳଓ

ᝰ a/n: bcuz this was kinda short.. chap 4 gonna be long af, sorry not sorry! you've been warned!

𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉 𝟤: 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾

bad!micheal x reader | chap 1 | chap 3 | chap 4 | chap 5 | m. list

𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒: 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗅 𝗃𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌𝗈𝗇. 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝗈𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆? 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓. 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗌𝖺𝖽𝖾, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝗅 𝖺𝗂𝗋, 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗂, 𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒/𝗇, 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗇, 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝖼𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖻 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀-𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗎𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗒, 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍; 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌/𝗂𝗌𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗆𝗎𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗏𝗎𝗅𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒, 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗇𝗈 𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒/𝗇'𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝖿𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀

oh, how eager michael was to recieve something back from you.

michael stared at the envelope a full minute before opening it.

your handwriting curled neatly across the front, familiar in a way that didn't make sense yet. he hadn't seen it before, and still, it felt like something he should recognize. he broke the seal carefully.

𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑚𝑖𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑒𝑙, 𝑖 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖 𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑟. 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑒𝑤 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑖 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑗𝑜𝑘𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑒, 𝑖 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡’𝑣𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑡 10 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑖 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙. 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠. 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑤𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙, 𝑠𝑜 𝑖’𝑚 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑑 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑚 ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑑. 𝑖 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑜𝑜. 𝑖’𝑣𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑤𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑟. 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒, 𝑦/𝑛 ♡

michael's smile grew as he read, then turned into laughter before he could stop it.

you actually wrote back.

he leaned back in the chair of the hotel desk he was sitting at, letter still in hand. it shouldn't have meant anything over than politeness. it was just a response. a thoughtful one, yes, but funny too.

a knock sounded at the door before he could think too deeply about it. "five minutes! we gotta get on the road soon. we got the stadium to let us in a little earlier."

right.

the show.

with a reluctant sigh, michael stood quickly. he already knows that the rest of the day was going to demand his attention. wardrobe, staging, soundcheck, overall just the familiar blur of prep that always came before the stage.

the letter didn't stay behind, though. it instead went into the inside of his jacket pocket without him realizing it. as if it had belonged.

right before the show, that his fingers brushed the against letter in his pocket

huh? michael paused. somehow, it’d come with him. he shook his head to himself as he took his jacket off, putting it down in the dressing room so he could change clothes.

· · ─ ·ʚ 📍𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎, 𝐉𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐍 𝟕:𝟑𝟕𝐏𝐌 ɞ· ─ · ·

thousands of fans screamed his name, lights flashed, music echoed through the stadium, the audience sang every word back to him. the air itself felt like the entire place was breathing in rhythm with the music.

michael moved through it like he always did. the stage lights burned hot against his skin, shifting colors across the crowd in waves. red, gold, white flickering so fast they blurred together if you looked too long.

every step hit the mark without thought, every turn landed exactly where it was meant to, and still, even in the middle of all of it, there were moments where everything sharpened.

for example, the way the entire stadium seemed to tilt forward whenever he moved closer to the edge of the stage.

he gave them what they came for and they gave it right back, multiplied a thousand times over.

when he finally returned to the hotel exhausted hours later, the first thing he reached for wasn't room service.

instead, it was his jacket for the letter. with a whole view of tokyo in his face, he still couldn't help but think of you.

this was only the first thing he got back from you but he wondered what you were doing. whether you were sleeping, working, or thinking of him too.

it all made him smile.

· · ─ ·ʚ📍𝐁𝐄𝐋 𝐀𝐈𝐑, 𝐂𝐀 𝟔:𝟎𝟎𝐀𝐌 ɞ· ─ · ·

the next morning for you came way too early, and it didn’t ask if you were ready for it. it didn't feel any different either.

jennifer was already going over your schedule while you sat at the kitchen island in an oversized sweatshirt from where you held a concert in hawaii, and a plate of french toast topped with strawberries, bananas and powdered sugar, with a side of nutella to dip your french toast in front of you. your hair was still messy from sleep you barely got.

“you’ve got two back-to-back photoshoots at starting at 11, a recording block at 2, and a meeting with production at 6,” she said, scrolling.

you nodded slowly, stirring something in a mug you weren’t really drinking.

“also.. the label wants feedback on the new track by tonight.”

“of course they do,” you muttered, causing her to glance at you. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you said automatically. “just tired.” she didn’t push it. people rarely did when you said it like that.

your eyes then drifted, briefly, to the spot on the counter where you’d left the letter the night before.

you hadn’t put it away yet.

you didn’t know why. it was just small passing thing. you thought he wasn't even going to write back after you sent your letter.

that thought passed quickly. you figured he was just being nice. to be frank, people in his position did that sometimes. just wrote for emotional support.

you had opened it like it was any other letter and kept going about your day as if it were like no other.

· · ─ ·ʚ 📍𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎, 𝐉𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐍 𝟏𝟎:𝟎𝟎𝐏𝐌 ɞ· ─ · ·

at the same time, after endless ‘goodnight’s and adrenaline wear-off, michael sat cross-legged on the floor of his hotel suite with his phone pressed between his shoulder and ear, a setlist for his next country in his lap.

"have you been sleeping?" katherine asked, causing michael to smile.

"hello to you too."

"michael." he laughed quietly.

"i'm fine." his mother hummed. the kind that meant she didn’t believe him, and rightfully so. his schedule for the week and a half sat untouched on the coffee table.

rehearsals.

show.

flight.

repeat. it never seemed to end. luckily, the tour was almost over.

"you sound tired," she said softly. for some reason, the room felt less empty than it did a few days ago.

"just busy. i have to fly to australia tomorrow. 4 in the morning" she hummed again. "get some rest, we'll catch up soon. okay?"

when the call ended, he suddenly wished he had you to talk to. why didn't he put his number on the letter? he was in the middle of touring.

back home, your week was moving just as quickly as his. recording sessions, meetings, questions from when paparazzi caught you in public.

"what inspired the next album?"

"whats next for you?"

"how does it feel being on of the biggest artists in the world?"

you smiled through all of them, yes, but it slowly started getting exhausting.

· · ─ ·ʚ📍𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐒𝐘𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐘, 𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐀 𝟓:𝟓𝟒𝐏𝐌 ɞ· ─ · ·

a few days passed before michael thought about it again. not in a deep, lingering way. he was just so busy. the first letter wasn't meant to be something to dwell on, but it kept showing up in small ways.

in the jacket pocket, it falling out in the dressing room from where it was angled, even once when he opened his suitcase and it was in his face.

that afternoon, michael finally sat down to answer your letter. that proved to be a mistake. to him, every version sounded ridiculous. he’d start over and over again.

by 6:15, there were crumpled sheets of stationery scattered all over the room.

“what happened in here?” michael looked up to see quincy standing in the doorway. “uh- nothing?”

quincy glanced at the now overflowing wastebucket, then the desk, then michael. “sure.. must be writing a novel. i knocked and you didn't even answer.”

“sorry,” he murmured. he didn't hear it.

“a song?”

“no.” quincy shook his head, picking up one of the discarded pages. michael immediately got up and snatched it away. 

far too quickly.

“oh.” quincy grinned, “it’s a girl.”

“quincy. it's just a friend.”

“it’s just a girl.” quincy stated matter-of-factly, laughing his out of of the door. michael buried his head in his hands.

eventually, just before rehersals, he finished writing. not because he had something important to say, it just felt appropriate. professional if you must.

· · ─ ·ʚ📍𝟐 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐁𝐄𝐋 𝐀𝐈𝐑, 𝐂𝐀 𝟏:𝟒𝟓𝐏𝐌 ɞ· ─ · ·

oddly, a second letter arrived to your house on a monday afternoon, which led to jennifer finding you curled up on your cream couch with a pink lounge set on, watching your favorite show.

between recording sessions, meetings, endless discussions about tour dates, and talking to your producers on the phone for hours on end for the past 2 days, this was the only time you had to yourself.

“more fan mail.. and another one that actually says it’s from him this time.” you held your hands out absentmindedly, taking the stack of mail. you didn't even finish two episodes.

“give me that.” jennifer laughed as you saw the letter right on top. to be honest, you were shocked. still, you just had the expectation of another reply.

“y’know.. most people would be calmer about this,” she giggled.

“most people arent recieving letters from michael jackson.” you both shared a laugh “fair point.”

this letter was longer. not much, but just enough.

𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓎/𝓃, 𝒾’𝓂 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓇𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓉 𝑜𝒷𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹. 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒, 𝒾 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝒾’𝒹 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓇𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝒾’𝓋𝑒 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒. 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁, 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝑒𝓍𝒶𝒸𝓉𝓁𝓎. 𝒾’𝓋𝑒 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓉𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈, 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒾 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌. 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓃𝑒𝓇𝓋𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓌𝓈. 𝒾 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹’𝓋𝑒 𝑔𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹. 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓌𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝑜 𝓃𝒶𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎, 𝒾 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓌𝑒. 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉𝓈 𝒶𝒸𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝒽𝓎 𝒾 𝓌𝓇𝑜𝓉𝑒. 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒾 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓎𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝑒. 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝒸𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝓇𝑒.  𝒾 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓉𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝑒𝓍𝒶𝒸𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓉. 𝒾𝓉’𝓈 𝒶 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑜𝑔𝓃𝒾𝓏𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓎 𝓈𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓉𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓈. 𝒾 𝓈𝓊𝓅𝓅𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉’𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝓎 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓌 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝒻𝒻𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉. 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻. 𝒾 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉. 𝒶𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝓊𝓇, 𝓉𝑜𝓀𝓎𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒻𝓊𝓁. 𝒶𝓁𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓎𝑒𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝓌 𝒶 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒻𝒻𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓂𝒶𝓁 𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒹𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝓉. 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝓎𝒹𝓃𝑒𝓎. 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎, 𝒾’𝓂 𝒶𝓁𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉. 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓈𝓊𝒻𝒻𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓂𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒾 𝒹𝒾𝒹. 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝒶 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒. 𝒾'𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈. [𝗫𝗫𝗫-𝗫𝗫𝗫-𝗫𝗫𝗫𝗫] 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎, 𝓂𝒾𝒸𝒽𝒶𝑒𝓁

you stared at the page for a moment after finishing. surely you couldn't have been going crazy.

"huh," you murmured to yourself.

it wasn't the story about the stuffed animal that stuck with you, it wasn't even the number.

it was the "i understood exactly what you meant," because very few people did, but this was the king of pop. america's and then some sweetheart if you must.

"well?" jennifer asked, tilting her head. you smiled to yourself.

"it's nice. that's all you're getting."

she groaned dramatically as you folded the letter and set it down carefully. far more carefully than necessary.

your phone buzzed immediately after. "tomorrow's call time got moved up." your managers text read.

of course it did.

your life didn't leave much room for anything else.

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

later that night, the letter sat beside you on your desk.

you weren't really looking at it anymore, let alone thinking about it. you were on your iMac, listening to an instrumental that your producer, aaron sent in.

it was there in your peripheral, though. you wondered what he was doing right now.

if he was performing, if was waiting on a r- wait. you paused.

why were you thinking of any of that? you guys hadn't met and only exchanged two letters. it didn't make sense. you were so overwhelmed, you shut off your mac.

shaking your head, you stood up, crossed your room, and turned off the light. unfortunately, it didn't turn off that thought. as you climbed into bed, you told yourself it was just curiousity. people got curious about other people all the time.

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

across cities and time zones, michael didn't think much of it either.

he'd meant it casually when he wrote it. an offer, not a statement.

you figured you'd just call tomorrow.

@quietlyscornfulfable ᨳଓ @ooooglymoooogly ᨳଓ @plan3tch1ld ᨳଓ @sleepy-batz ᨳଓ @neatachillies ᨳଓ @sukunasstomachtongue ᨳଓ @solelypyt ᨳଓ @dear2004 ᨳଓ @moonwalker4you ᨳଓ @drewstarkeylov3r ᨳଓ @tinitaeyong ᨳଓ @mynameisnicolle ᨳଓ @glokenn ᨳଓ @yennabow ᨳଓ @pimplucious ᨳଓ @leelysian ᨳଓ @shamonemjshamone ᨳଓ @radiantpactthreshold ᨳଓ @l8nightreads ᨳଓ @tubatututuz ᨳଓ

ᝰ a/n: i knowwww this has sm timeskips ugh, but the timezones are actually so crazy. also can we pretend iMac existed in that era..? | chap 3 here!

sorry if this is confusing as well! tokyo is ahead of bel air by +16hrs! where its bolded, is what it is for that person!

𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉 𝟣: 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍

bad!michael x reader | chap 2 | chap 3 | chap 4 | chap 5 | m. list

𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒: 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗅 𝗃𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌𝗈𝗇. 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝗈𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆? 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓. 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗌𝖺𝖽𝖾, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝗅 𝖺𝗂𝗋, 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗂, 𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒/𝗇, 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗇, 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝖼𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖻 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀-𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗎𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗒, 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍; 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌/𝗂𝗌𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗆𝗎𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗏𝗎𝗅𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒, 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗇𝗈 𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒/𝗇'𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝖿𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀

the audience erupted into an applause when sally stepped out onto the stage.

you took a breath backstage, someone from your pr team taking notice. “you’ll do fine.”

“a little nervous is all,” you smoothed a hand over your outfit. you were wearing a fitted black wrap-style top with a deep v-neckline and bell sleeves that brushed just past your wrists. it had gold floral embroidery climbed across one side of the top with a pair of dark wash jeans of the same embroidery, but the opposite side. you paired it with black slingback heels, gold hoop earrings, and your hair was a blowout that was put in the prettiest half up half down.

“five seconds.” the producer yelled, causing your stomach to flutter. you could perform infront of 80,000 people and sing without a problem.

interviews? entirely different story.

“ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the incredible—“ the crowd practically drowned out the rest.

“go.” the curtains parted, the applause grew louder. and then there she was, sally jessy raphael herself — standing center stage with a bright smile on her face.

you laughed despite yourself as you walked onto the stage. sally met you halfway, wrapping you in a hug. after, she grabbed your hand and you both sat down, waiting for the audience to settle.

“it’s so good to finally have you here.” sally nodded.

“thank you, it’s so good to be here.” you smiled.

sally turned to the audience, “i have to tell y’all something.” 

you covered your face. “oh dear.” the audience laughed.

“i have been trying to get this interview for a year,” the audience laughed harder. “it’s true! y/n you’re such a successful young lady..”

you dropped your hands, “thank you, you make it seem like i’m hiding.” you giggled. 

“you disappear for months at a time.” sally raised her brows.

“that’s called living.” the crowd erupted.

“see? this is why the people love you.” you shook your head smiling at her statement. the interview started easily enough.

your newest album, touring, songwriting, your interests outside of music, even silly stories from when you were younger. this part was easy,

until sally crossed her leg over the other and gave you a look. immediately, you were suspiscous. 

“ugh, just spit it out.” you giggled, causing her to glance at her cards.

“what about dating?” the audience cheered.

you leaned your head back, “no.” causing sally to laugh “oh, yes.”

no.

“everyone wants to know.” you turned to the crowd, seeing faces full of grins. “y’all are positive?” they ‘yes’d in unison, causing you to groan and cover your face once again.

“y/n..” sally started, “you write some of the most romantic songs in music.”

“that doesn’t mean anything.” you dropped your hands, smiling.

“fine. let me ask differently.” she narrowed her eyes toward you. “are you seeing anyone?”

you shook your head. “no.”

“no special someone?”

“no.”

“do these men have eyes?” the audience roared as she turned to the crowd, causing you to giggle as well.

“sally.”

“yes?”

“you’re determined.” you said, causing her to nod. you sighed dramatically then shrugged.

“no.”

a collective aww echoed through the audience. sally blinked. “really?”

“really.”

“why?” 

you turned your head to the crowd, then back to her. then you smiled, a little sheepishly.

“i’ve never had much luck.” you heard a loud gasp.

sally looked genuniely shocked. “what do you mean? you’re one of the most beautiful people i’ve ever seen.”

there was pause for a moment, causing you to think.

“i think people fall in love with who they think i am, not who i actually am. and when they meet me, and they’re disappointed to find out i’m just a person who does the same things a person would.” you said with a giggle behind it.

sally looked at you thoughtfully. “that’s lonely.”

“sometimes.” you offered a small smile, “but i’d rather be alone than with someone who doesn’t really wanna love me for me.”

the audience applauded. a lot. it made sally smile.

“so.. what kind of man do you want?” she leaned forward a bit.

you laughed shyly, looking down for a moment. 

“someone who’s funny, who’s kind, who doesn’t feel the need to impress everybody.” you looked back up.

sally smiled “mm.”

“and someone who is comfortable with being themselves!”

“thats a plus!!” someone in the audience yelled, causing everyone to laugh.

sally tilted her head. “so where does one find this mystery man?”

you laughed a real laugh. effortless. “if you figure it out, let me know.”

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

thousands of miles away, michael sat in a hotel suite in tokyo. the ‘bad’ tour had him halfway around the world. 

the tv was on for background noise, at least that’s what the plan was. until he heard your name, causing him to look up. 

now 45 minutes had passed, and he hadn’t moved not once.

his elbows rested on his knees, eyes fixed on the screen, watching you answer questions with a mixture of honesty and humor that was effortless. when sally asked about your love life, michael found himself paying far more attention than he should have.

“i’ve never had much luck.” he heard, causing his brow to furrow.

how?

how was that possible?

the woman that was on the screen was beautiful, talented, funny, and graceful. and somehow she’d had bad luck? michael shook his head.

by the time the interview ended, he’d already developed a problem.

because now, he wanted to meet you.

and had absolutely no idea how.

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

a few weeks after the interview, you’re home when your assistant, jennifer walks in holding an envelope. at first, it looks ordinary enough. cream-colored, no flashy markings, nothing that indicated that it was important enough.

she hands it over to you — no return address, just your name. the handwriting looked neat, intentional. carefully you slid a finger beneath the seal. it was a handwritten note.

𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓎/𝓃, 𝒾 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓈𝓃'𝓉 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒. 𝒾 𝓈𝒶𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓌 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾 𝑒𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓎𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽. 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓉, 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝒶𝓇𝑒.  𝒾 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁. 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎, 𝓂𝒾𝒸𝒽𝒶𝑒𝓁 𝒿𝒶𝒸𝓀𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝘆, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝗼𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗲.

you read it three times. 

then a fourth.

then a fifth. you were sure you misunderstood. it wasn’t dramatic nor flirtatious. if anything, it was surprisingly simple.

he seen your interview, he enjoyed it, thought you seem genuine. wanted to wish you well. that was all.

“who’s it from?” jennifer asked, a brief pause.

“…michael jackson.” you said, sounding more a question than a statement.

she blinked. “the michael jackson?”

you handed the letter to her.

“wow.” her eyes widened 

“i know, right?” that seemed to be the only words you could utter. what exactly were you supposed to do with this?

it wasn’t a business proposal, it wasn’t a request for collaboration. simply just kind.

you were still in shock. out of all the things he could’ve been doing, he was watching your interview. for some reason, that detail stuck with you the most.

“are you going to answer him?” jennifer pulled you out of the trance.

“yes, maybe.” you laughed, a nervous one.

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

the replied arrived 12 days later. 12 days too long for him.

michael was sitting in his hotel suite when bill knocked on the door. “you got mail.”

he opened the door “thank you,” he stepped to the side, allowing bill to walk in.

“quincy said it was a reply to a note you’d sent?” his ears perked. “right.” he said quickly.

“what?”

“nothing..”

“michael.”

“bill.” bill shook his head, heading out.

oh, how eager michael was to recieve something back from you.

today marks the day that Michael Jackson has left this world for 17 years, we miss you every day.

your legacy has shaped the world undoubtedly, the light you have shined on this world will forever be remembered, the happiness that you’ve shared with us will forever be cherished along the world.

“I’m so done with you Michael.”

| Bad!Michael X Fem!Reader. Two words were all it took to turn Michael’s world upside down. When an over the phone argument ends abruptly, he leaves work early to save his relationship only to find a lot of your belongings missing (he lwk obsessive).

| Song envisioned - ‘Onie’ — The Electric Prunes.

June, 1987. Studio bursting with the creative juices of making ‘Bad!’ flowing around the room. Tracks were laying down perfectly, but the only thing missing from the room was you. After an excellent take, Michael wiped a line of sweat from his forehead, a bright, eager smile lighting up his face as he grabbed the studio telephone. He needed his love. His muse. He wanted your ear on a new melody, but more than anything, he just wanted you sitting all pretty on the lounge couch where you belonged.

"Hey baby," sounding immediately brightened the second you answered. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you!” his voice came through the line, genuinely cheery and beaming with such excitement. "When are you stopping by? I firmly believe we figured out that bridge I was telling you about."

On the other end of the line, your sigh was quiet, your mind you were already visualizing papers that’ll weigh down desk. Your job was demanding, a fast-paced environment where "last minute" was the standard and difficult to keep up a steady schedule. "Oh, Michael, I can’t stop by. I’m so sorry," you said, your tone soft, trying to cushion the blow. "I just got called in work just right now, and I actually just finished getting ready."

The silence on the line was instant, the cheerfulness evaporating. "You're not coming?" Michael’s voice dropped, the disappointment quickly turning into a defensive edge.

"Yeah, no I can’t, i have work," you explained, trying to keep your patience as you struggle to put on your high heel with the phone receiver tucked in your ear.

“Well…ain’t that great. You work too much, y’know?” he murmured annoyingly, not quite accusatory, more wounded than anything. “I hardly get any time with you.” He begins to anxiously twirl the phone cord in his fingers.

You closed your eyes, feeling a headache brewing. “Michael please don’t do this right now.” You switch the receiver to your other ear as you continue to put on your heel and adding any last makeup touches.

Michael sighs at your now apparent fed up voice. “what am I doing? I’m just saying I wish you didn’t have to…I don’t like sharing you with that office.”

You sighed, dropping your lipstick onto the vanity with a soft clatter. “Michael, I got called in. It’s not like I’m choosing work because it’s more fun. it’s work, everyone in the world has to go.”

“I didn’t say that, it’s just..I’ve offered..to take care of you in other ways aside from you just moving in.” he snapped back quickly, defensiveness creeping into his posture.

“And I respectfully declined that, and I didn’t think you’d throw that in my face. Seriously, your acting like I did something wrong.”

“I’m not acting like anything.”

“You are,” you insisted, your tone hardening as the pressure of the ticking clock started to get to you.

He let out a sharp, frustrated breath into the receiver. “See? Every time I tell you how I feel, it turns into this.”

Your fists clench in anger at his dramatic persistence.“Because every time I have to work, you make me feel guilty, like I feel like a bitch.”

His face falls at the word you used, he hated whenever you used foul language and the fact you were using it to describe yourself made guilt creep in. “I am not trying to make you feel any of those things.” His voice now drastically decreasing in volume and now soft.

“It certainly doesn’t feel that way.” Your voice now turned bitter.

The heavy words hung in the air between you, stretching across the miles of telephone wire. Michael went dead quiet for a long moment, the background hum of the studio the only indicator that he was still there.

“You know what?” he finally said, his voice dropping into a dangerously soft, quiet register. “Forget it.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Shut down because I disagree with you.”

“I’m not shutting down,” he shot back, his voice finally sharpening into a rare flash of anger that made your chest tighten. “I’m trying not to say something that will further anger you.”

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, watching the frustration mar your features. Time was up, you were going to be late. “I have to go.”

“Fine.” The answer came entirely too quickly, clipped and cold.

You blinked, taken aback. “Fine?”

“What do you want me to say?” he asked, a bitter laugh bubbling up. “Go to work. Like you said ‘Everybody always does’.”

The petty re-quote of your previous statement hit a nerve. You rolled your eyes, licking your lips in sheer frustration as the exhaustion of the argument completely drained your remaining patience.

“Do whatever you want,” you said flatly, your voice devoid of any sweetness. “I’m so done with you, Michael.”

Before he could utter another syllable, you slammed the receiver back onto the cradle, the sharp click cutting off the connection instantly and leaving the bedroom entirely, suffocatingly quiet.

He stared at the receiver, the blood rushing out of his face so fast it made him dizzy. I'm done with you. The words echoed in his head, twisting into something permanent. Did she mean the argument? Or did she mean him?

"Hey, Smelly! We're burning daylight, let's get back in the booth!" Quincy’s voice cracked over the studio intercom, waving him back to the microphone.

Michael swallowed hard, forcing his trembling hands into his pockets. He went back into the booth and tried to power through the track, but his mind was a storm of absolute anxiety. His throat felt tight, his eyes burning on the verge of tears as the terrifying thought looped in his brain: Did my girl just leave me?

For the next hour, the session was a disaster. The brilliant, effortless takes he’d been delivering all afternoon completely vanished. Now, his vocals were noticeably off-key, his timing was dragging behind the beat, and that raw, passionate energy that usually beamed from his voice was entirely gone. He was hollow.

Through the studio glass, Quincy watched him with deep confusion before finally hitting the talkback button.

“Michael, what the hell is wrong with you?” Quincy asked, his brows furrowing in deep frustration as he rubbed his temples.

Michael pulled the headphones off, his head hanging low as his shoulders shook. “I’m sorry, Q... I can't," he choked out, his voice thick and dangerously close to breaking. "Let’s just... let's call it a day.”

“Michael, what?” Quincy countered through the intercom, his tone hardening. “I’m sorry, but you’re gonna be in there till I call it.”

Michael lifted his head, a rare flash of stubborn defensiveness cutting through his panic. “Q… who’s the star here? I’d like to think I call the shots.”

Quincy stared at him through the glass, the initial irritation on his face softening into genuine concern when he saw the pale, exhausted look in Michael's eyes. It wasn't like Michael to pull rank or walk away from a session, but it was clear his mind was completely miles away.

"Alright, Mike," Quincy sighed, flipping the talkback switch back on. "Go on home. Get some rest. We'll pick this up tomorrow."

Michael didn't waste a second. He mumbled a quick thank you, grabbed his jacket, and practically bolted out the studio doors into the cool evening air.

——————-

Meanwhile, back at the house you were in a whirlwind of annoyance. You weren't leaving him, but you absolutely refused to sleep in the same bed as him tonight.

In a rush to get ready for your sudden shift, you dragged your feet into your shared walk-in closet. Grabbing a handful of your favorite clothes, you marched them down the grand hallway to the downstairs guest room. You went back and forth, snatching up your specific skincare bottles, your makeup routines, your shower products, your jewelry box, and your favorite perfumes.

The shared closet door was flung wide open, leaving a glaring, empty gap where your daily clothes usually hung. Glass plate on your dresser the one that always held your everyday rings and necklaces was completely bare. Your vanity was stripped of your lotions, leaving behind little dust rings where the bottles used to sit. The bed sheets were completely unmade, tossed aside in your frustration.

You threw your essentials into the guest bathroom, locked the main house door, and left for work.

————————-

The moment Michael climbed into the back of the SUV, the heavy door hadn’t even fully latched before he leaned forward, his voice tight and trembling. "Bill, please. We gotta go. Drive back home, fast as you can. Please."

Bill caught his eye in the rearview mirror, noticing the sheer panic etched into Michael's face, and immediately pressed down on the gas.

The ride back to Neverland was a blur of agonizing silence and mounting terror. Michael couldn't sit still. His right leg bounced up and down violently, a frantic, rhythmic tapping against the floorboard that betrayed the chaos in his mind. He kept his eyes locked on the window, but he wasn't looking at the passing trees. He was trapped in his own head, replaying your voice over and over. I'm so done with you. A stray tear finally slipped down his cheek, followed by another, until he was silently crying, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand as his breathing grew shallow. Every second felt like an hour. The knot in his chest was tightening, suffocating him with the terrifying belief that you were already gone.

The second the vehicle rounded the final bend and the grand house came into view, Michael couldn't even wait for a complete stop. As the SUV barely began pulling up into the driveway, his hands flew to his seatbelt, clicking it open. He shoved the door open while the car was still rolling to a halt, practically spilling out onto the pavement in his desperation.

He didn't care about his jacket, his bag, or anything else. He just ran.

When Michael’s car screeched to a final halt behind him, he practically burst through the front doors of the house.

"Baby?" he called out, his voice cracking with pure panic, echoing off the high ceilings of the foyer. "Y/n?"

Silence greeted him.

He took the stairs two at a time, his heart hammering violently against his ribs as he threw open the master bedroom door. The sight froze the breath in his lungs.

The bed sheets were tossed aside, completely unmade in a rush. Michael stumbled forward, his eyes darting toward the walk-in closet the door was flung wide open, and even in the dim light, he could see the glaring, empty hangers where your everyday clothes usually hung. Panic taking total control, he turned toward your vanity. The glass jewelry dish where you always left your rings was completely bare, and the usual bottles of perfume and lotions were gone, leaving behind faint outlines in the dust.

To his spiraling mind, this wasn't just an angry exit after a fight. It looked like a clean break.

The strength completely left his legs. Michael sank onto the edge of the unmade mattress, burying his face in his hands. The tears he had been fighting back since the studio finally spilled over, his shoulders shaking in the quiet room as the terrifying realization hit him: he thought he had lost you for good. He drove you away, his needy nature drove you insane and you really were done with him.

Downstairs, the heavy click of the front door unlocking cut through the silence of the house.

————————

When you had arrived at the office, you were met with a frustrating surprise.

"Oh, Y/N? Yeah, no, you aren't actually needed anymore tonight. You can go home," your boss said, completely dismissing you while turning his back to chat with another coworker. He slid a hundred-dollar bill across the desk toward you with a patronizing smirk checking you out. "Here, get a drink on me for your troubles."

Annoyed by the blatant mansplaining and the waste of your time, you took the money and walked straight back out to the parking lot. Getting back into your Mercedes, you briefly tempted the idea of stopping by the recording studio to surprise Michael and make up after the phone call. But the exhaustion of the day won, and you decided it was best to just head back to Neverland.

When you finally pulled up to the estate, you immediately noticed something was different. To your surprise, the heavy front doors were already unlocked and slightly ajar. Stepping into the foyer, you realized the lights were blazing, the AC was humming loudly, and the entire house felt lived-in. You knew none of the staff would leave the main house in this state without reason and you knew Michael doesn’t come home from work early like ever.

Suddenly, the sound of muffled muffled breathing and movement echoed from upstairs. Walking carefully up the grand staircase, your heart began to race as you approached the master bedroom. You stepped through the doorway, only to see Michael sitting on the edge of the unmade mattress, looking completely defeated.

Your heart dropped straight to your stomach at the sight. "Oh my lord, Michael! You scared the life out of me!"

At the sound of your voice, he whipped around, and your breath caught. His beautiful face was completely stained with fresh tears, his eyes red and wide with sheer shock as he stared at you like he was seeing a ghost.

Your face drops at the sudden sight of Michael. “Michael what’s wrong?“ you said ever so urgently, although before you could move, Michael stared at you, his chest heaving as he tried to process that you were actually standing there in the doorway. He scrambled up from the bed, his knees almost giving out beneath him as he crossed the room in two long strides, throwing his arms around you tightly.

"You're here," he choked out, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His hands gripped the fabric of your blazer as if he was terrified that if he let go, you would vanish. “yeah? I am, what’s wrong why are you crying?” Your voice hitches worried about the worst possible scenario, the sheer panic in his voice made your heart ache. You wrapped your arms around his torso, holding him close as his shoulders trembled against you.

"You're here. I thought you left me. I thought you packed your things and walked out."

“Hey, look at me," you murmured softly, gently pulling back just enough to cup his face in your hands. You used your thumbs to wipe away the fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. "I would never leave you why would you even- what made you think that?”

"The closet," he breathed, his voice cracking as he gestured wildly toward the bedroom behind him. "Your clothes are gone. Your jewelry, your perfumes... everything was empty. You said you were done with me on the phone, and I came home and thought..." He swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence as a fresh wave of emotion hit him. “What was I supposed to think?”

You looked past him at the open closet door and the bare vanity, suddenly realizing how the scene looked to someone who didn't know the context. The anger from your earlier argument completely dissolved, replaced by overwhelming guilt.

"Oh, love... no," you sighed softly, leaning your forehead against his. "I was just mad. I took some things down the hall to the guest room because I was too annoyed to sleep in here tonight. I only meant I was done arguing on the phone...”

Michael let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension finally leaving his frame as the truth sank in. He closed his eyes, resting his weight against you as he wrapped his arms back around your waist.

"Don't do that to me again," he whispered against your skin, his voice small and completely vulnerable. "Don't ever say you're done like that. My heart completely stopped."

"I'm sorry," you whispered back, running your fingers through his curls that sat by his neck to soothe him. "I'm so sorry, Michael. I was frustrated, but I shouldn't have said it that way."

He pulled back slightly, looking down at you with raw sincerity in his eyes. "I'm sorry too. About what I said about your job. I know how hard you work, and I shouldn't have made you feel guilty just because I wanted you around. I just... I miss you when I'm in the studio all day."

A soft smile finally broke across your face, and you reached up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "I know. I miss you too.

Michael managed a small, relieved smile of his own, his fingers locking securely with yours. "But..I thought you had work..what happened? ”

"I did," you explained with a heavy sigh rolling your eyes feeling the previous anger rise to your head. "But when I got there, this douche completely changed his mind and told me I wasn't needed at all. He actually gave me a hundred bucks for the trouble and dismissed me like I was a servant.”

He chuckled, your annoyed mood completely melting away the last of his tension. He always found it endearing whenever you complained about the office or vented about the people there, seeing you fired up over your independence was part of why he loved you.

His hands slid around your waist, pulling you firmly against him as he looked down at you. “This girl," he murmured, shaking his head with a soft smile. "Well, I’m glad he sent you back."

He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, the last remnants of his panic completely fading away. "Come on. Let's go grab your things from the guest room so we can put them back where they belong."

Note — hope you enjoyed Besos everyone! NO ONE UNDERSTANDS how much I love writing requests guys it just makes me so happy, keep giving me ideas! I got the creative juices flowing I need to get them out !!