michael was definitely the kind of person who would just admire what you have down there he wouldn’t want you to do some fancy wax treatment or anything he would want you just for you. don’t even get me started on if you had a long day and he would want a taste and you were hesitant because you wanted to be fresh for him but he ever cared he just wanted you raw, bare and vulnerable. whenever he’d be between your legs he would kiss up your thighs and no matter what size they were he’d always give them a light squeeze and admire them. before he’d take your panties off he’d teasingly kiss and run his nose down your center making you squirm and ride the bump of his nose. he’ll take them off once you protest to stop teasing and once he sees your pretty flower just dripping all for him he’ll moan at the sight “so pretty and ripe” and he’ll use his thumb to run through your folds and clit and get to work leaving you a moaning mess as he eats you like a ripe papaya on a hot summer day. talking you through your orgasm, and once you let go for him he whispers a “thank you” and licks every inch left of your essence even if it got on the sheets he’s sucking it off as he just believes you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted he kissing up your body and eventually your lips and as you taste yourself on him and pulls away say “thanks for dinner baby i’m stuffed”.
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the type to look at you with a smirk while going down on you, and whisper nothing but compliments and pet names, cause he loves to see you squirm. his fingers softly rubbing your skin and moving to your- OKAY
🐆💋 — jealous mature!michael and you coming back to his place from a night out. the entire time at the event he took you to, your attention had been on everyone but him. to you, you didn’t care, michael’s been too busy nowadays, too focused on everyone else that you’re starting to feel forgotten. you’re becoming sick of it and he’s becoming sick of you allowing other men to flirt with you. once the two of you step inside his place, michael goes over to the couch and sits down, unbuttoning his shirt as he stares at you.
you’re moving around in front of him, looking for your phone, which you swore you placed down on the coffee table before you walked into the kitchen for something to drink. michael stays quiet, staring at you as he widens his legs, pissed doesn’t even fit the word on how he’s feeling right now. “mikey, come on, can you at least attempt to help me?” you complain, raising your hands at him, pausing in your movements as you look at him. his clear, tinted gold frames still on, eyes following your every movement, his shirt nearly off as he waits.
“come sit, we can worry about that later.” he tensely says, his big hand tapping on his lap. “mike-” he shakes his head and beckons you with his fingers. you sigh and give in, walking over to him, his hands find your waist and turn you around, your back pressing against his chest as he raises your dress up, feeling your ass cheeks against his crotch. “you’re worried about a tiny device and not the fact you’ve been giving trouble all night.” your eyes widen and you try to turn to look at him but michael quickly places his hand under your chin and force you to look forward.
“i know i have nothing to worry about, but you make that so difficult sometimes, sweet girl.” michael’s hands rub over your thighs, making you shiver as his right hand comes up to your panties, and drag them down so easily. “mikey, baby.” you whine out and he coos at you, holding in a smirk, he’s so tired of your defiance. “i know i’m a busy man, i know i have not been giving you as much as attention that i normally do. i apologize for that, but does that give you any right to flirt with almost every man you’ve met tonight? would i have done that to you? put you in that uncomfortable position?” you shiver and squirm on his lap as michael’s hands force your legs open.
the cold air hitting your pussy, your breath hitches as michael’s index finger drags down your clit to your folds, you shake your head no, “i’m sorry.” you gasp as michael smacks your pussy and kisses his teeth. “you will be.” he whispers, his lips move to your neck, leaving you gentle kisses as he raises his hand before smacking your pussy.
HIII love your work!! would you be willing to do a mature era!Michael x fem!reader where he guides her through a panic attack? LOTS of hurt/comfort plz it’s my favorite trope
The air in the room felt heavy, almost solid, pressing down on your chest until each breath felt like swallowing glass. On the bed lay the morning tabloids—vicious headlines, blurred paparazzi photos of you leaving a doctor’s appointment, and a barrage of cruel, fabricated stories picking apart your character, your past, and your sudden "ulterior motives."
Ever since the news leaked that you were pregnant with Michael’s first child, the media circus had turned into a full-blown feeding frenzy. You knew who he was when you fell in love with him years ago. You thought you were prepared. But looking at the sheer malice directed at you and your unborn baby, the walls of the room suddenly felt like they were crashing inward.
Your heart hammered violently against your ribs. Your vision blurred at the edges, spinning into a dizzying vortex. I can't do this. I'm not strong enough for this.
"Applehead? I'm back, I brought some—"
Michael’s voice cut through the fog as he stepped into the bedroom, his arms holding a tray of food. The moment his eyes landed on you, the tray was forgotten, clattering onto a nearby table.
You were curled on the edge of the bed, trembling so violently your teeth chattered, your hands clawing at your chest as you gasped for air that wouldn't come.
"Oh, God. Hey, hey, look at me," Michael murmured, his voice dropping into a low, urgent calm. He was at your side in a heartbeat, sinking to his knees on the floor right in front of you.
He didn't grab you. He knew better. Instead, he gently hovered his hands near yours, waiting until your panicked, wide eyes locked onto his.
"I'm right here. You're safe. I need you to breathe with me, okay? Just look at my face."
"I-I can't," you choked out, a sob ripping from your throat, raw and agonizing. "Michael, I can't breathe... they're saying... everyone hates me... the baby..."
"Shh, don't look at that garbage. Look at me," he pleaded, his own heart breaking at the sight of you. He took your trembling hands and placed them flat against his chest. "Feel that? Follow my heartbeat. In... and out. Come on, try it for me."
He exaggerated his own breathing, chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. You tried to mimic him, but a sharp gasp cut you off, your shoulders shaking as you wept. The sheer pressure of his immense fame—the flashing lights, the constant scrutiny, the terrifying invasion of your privacy—had finally broken your spirit.
"It's too much," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "How do you live like this? They're so cruel, Michael... they don't even know me..."
A flicker of profound, heavy sadness crossed Michael's features. It was a look of ancient exhaustion. He was used to it. He had spent decades being torn apart by the public, hardening himself to the point where a devastating front-page lie was just another Tuesday. But seeing the same monstrous machine turn its gears on the woman he loved—and on their future child—struck a chord of pure agony in his soul.
He shouldn't have to be used to it. No human being should.
"I know," Michael whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently against yours. "I know it hurts so bad. It’s a nightmare, and I am so, so sorry I brought you into this storm. But they cannot touch you here. They don't know the truth. They don't know us."
He carefully pulled you off the edge of the bed and into his lap on the floor, wrapping his long arms securely around you. He buried his face in your hair, holding you tight enough to glue your shattered pieces back together, yet gentle enough to protect the fragile life growing inside you.
"Let it out," he murmured, rubbing smooth, comforting circles into your back as you cried into his neck, your fingers gripping his black button-down shirt like a lifeline. "I've got you. I'm not letting anyone hurt you or our baby. Let me carry the weight for a while."
For a long time, there were no words—just the sound of your fading sobs and the steady, unyielding warmth of Michael's embrace. He rocked you slowly on the floor, humming a soft, wordless melody beneath his breath, a soothing lullaby meant only for you.
Slowly, the tight coil in your chest began to loosen. The air returned to your lungs, no longer burning, but cool and steady. The world outside the mansion walls was still loud, terrifying, and chaotic, but in the quiet safety of his arms, the storm couldn't reach you.
Michael pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb gently wiping away the damp tracks of tears from your cheeks. His dark eyes were fierce with a protective, deeply mature devotion.
"Better?" he asked softly.
You nodded weakly, leaning your cheek into his palm. "Better. Thank you."
He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering there for a long moment. "We're going to get through this. Together. I love you more than all of them combined, never forget that."
a/n: i wrote this really quickly during my class so i hope it’s not too subpar,, i don’t really read angst myself bc ion like crying but i did enjoy writing it ^_^
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the bustling set of the “michael” movie hummed with controlled chaos, cameras, lights, crew members darting between takes, and the faint echo of michael jackson songs buzz in the background. you and jermajesty had been invited to visit the set that day and to tell how proud of jaafar you two were. you were like family to jaafar, practically his sister so that automatically gave you a all-access pass.
jaafar was already in character, looking like the icon his uncle is. he was dressed in a identical outfit michael had when he was maybe 17 or 18 years old, still in the jackson 5 era. once jaafar laid his eyes on you and jermajesty, he grinned at you both as he hurried to give a tour of the set. he showed off many different things like, the vintage props, different rooms and even the makeup trailers where most of the magic happens.
“man, this feels surreal. I’m happy to be honoring my uncle.” he expressed while glancing at his brother who gave him a warm smile. you smiled at his words as well, face filled with an admirable yet proud expression.
“we’re so proud of you, far.” jaafar gave you a big smile before bringing you into a hug, shifting left and right on his feet, cradling you. jermajesty came behind you two next, hugging you and jaafar at the same time time. during the hug, jermajesty had pressed up against your ass, crotch brushing against you over and over. you ignored it for the time being, because the moment was too sweet so it definitely wasn’t the time nor the place.
jaafar finally pulled away, smile not faltering. “you two enjoy the rest of the set. i’ve got another scene in ten.”
jermajesty nodded, his hand brushing the small of your back as jaafar walked off. as soon as jaafar’s figure was out of view, jermajesty slid his hand down the back pocket of your jeans and spun you around to face him, earning a surprise yelp from your throat.
his voice dropped low. “i’ve been thinking about you since we walked in here.” you were pulled flush against him as he gripped your ass, tightly, you had no choice but to feel his hardness grow in his pants. “c’mon. quick detour.”
he guided you through a side door into a dimly lit storage room, tucked between some props and tapes and racks of costumes. the door clicked shut. before you could say anything, jermajesty’s lips were already on yours. his goate rubbed against your skin as his mouth got hot and hungry against yours. his tongue slipped past your lips as he backed you into a prop table, hands roaming your body greedily.
“jermajesty.. we are on s- hmm- set.” you tried to talk while jermajesty’s lips and tongue was caressing your pulse but it was insanely difficult. you didn’t even know why you tried to be reasonable, the heat pooling between your thighs betrayed you.
“that’s exactly why we gotta be quick and quiet.” he says, pushing the narrative further. he nipped at your skin while finger worked on the button on your jeans, opening it in one swift motion. “I’ve been wanting this pussy allll day.” he cooed.
he then dropped to his knees, yanking your jean and panties down in a quick motion. your glistening folds were already wet for him, which was nothing new. he he lifted one of your legs on the table, making you balance on one leg while leaning against the table. he buried his head between your thighs with no hesitation, tongue lapping at your clit with expert fingers pushing in your soaked entrance, curling just right. you bit your lip, trying to conceal your moan with one hand cupping your mouth while the other was gripping his shoulder. the sounds of his mouth filled the quiet room, just slurping and sucking.
“fuck.. you taste so good, baby.” he groaned quietly, looking up at you with a dark glint in his eyes. your hips buckled into his face, face scrunched up in pleasure. you were close but he began to pull back. you didn’t protest because you knew what was coming next.
he stood, freeing his cock from his sweats. it slapped, heavy against your thigh, flushed and leaking pre-cum. “turn around, baby.”
you spun, hands resting on the edge of the table, back arching and ass pushing out for him and knee hiked up on the dress. he rubbed the head of his dick along your slick pussy lips, circling the tip on your clit, teasing you a bit. he then, thrust in one big, deep stroke. you both gasped, him at how tight you were, you at the stretch. he filled you perfectly, bottoming out with a low grunt.
“fuck baby, why are you so tight” he whispered, hotly in your ear, one hand covering your mouth while the other gripped your hip. he started to fuck with deep, controlled strokes, hard enough to make your eyes roll back, but quiet enough to not draw attention. the sound of skin slapping was muffled by the angle and his body pressed tightly against yours. your pussy clenched around him with every thrust, creamy ring forming around his cock.
you moaned into his hand, pushing back against him. he angled his hips to hit that spot inside you that made your toes curl, balls slapping softly against your clit. “tas’it take this dick. just like that.” he breathed, voice strained, trying to hold back. sweat beaded on his skin as began to pound into you faster, the table creaking beneath you.
your orgasm hit you hard. your walls fluttered around him as waves of pleasure coursed through your. you whimpered into his hand, body shaking. jermajesty followed right after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a choked groan, hips stuttering as he filled you with hot pulses of cum.
he stayed buried in you for a second, both of you catching your breath. finally, he pulled out slowly, a trickle of cum spilling on your thigh which jermajesty wiped with a tissue from his pocket. he put his clothes back in place before helping you as well.
“just wait till we get home.” he says, kissing you softly this time.
you hummed, replying to his remark.
he led you back into set like nothing happened and the people around you tow didn’t know anything happened as well.
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who would’ve thought a last-minute networking trip to New York changes everything when you land the role of Foxy Cleopatra in Austin Powers in Goldmember. Cann you blame a lady for wantin to have some fun?
warnings: 18+ minors dni, minors block me, dom!fem reader, sub!michael, cumming in pants, inexperienced!michael jackson, shy michael, grinding, fighting, Diana Ross, public make-out, studio 54 era michael, age gap (4 years, reader is older).
wc: 1.6k
[a/n: the movie came out decades later but for the sake of this fic it came out in 79’]
Your manager's call came out of nowhere.
"Pack your bags," he said. "We're booking you a flight to New York. Appearances, interviews, networking. Time to build that public image." You couldn't even remember what day it was anymore. August of 1979 was moving in a blur. Ever since your career had taken off, everything felt bigger, louder, faster. One minute you were dreaming about success, and the next you were living it.
New York City welcomed you with heat that clung to your skin and energy that seemed to buzz through every street. You spent your first few days smiling for cameras, shaking hands, and attending events your manager insisted were important. But when night came, there was only one place anybody worth knowing was talking about.
Studio 54.
The hottest club in America.
By the time you arrived, the line stretched down the block. It didn't matter. Your name was finally starting to carry weight, and before long you were stepping through the doors into a world of flashing lights that bounced off your gold set, pounding music, and enough celebrities to fill a magazine cover. The atmosphere was electric.
Bodies moved together beneath spinning lights. Glitter covered everything. The bass vibrated through the floor beneath your heels. For the first time in weeks, you weren't thinking about interviews or public appearances. You were simply enjoying yourself.
That's when you saw him.
Michael Jackson.
Fresh off his album release party and surrounded by people who all seemed desperate for his attention.
He looked different from what you'd expected.
Quieter.
Softer.
While everyone else in the room seemed determined to be seen, Michael almost looked like he wanted to disappear. At one point your paths crossed on the dance floor. A smile slipped across his face when he noticed you looking.
"Ain't you supposed to be the guest of honor tonight?" you teased.
He laughed softly.
"I guess."
You raised an eyebrow.
"Guess? Boy, that's your party."
His smile widened, and for a second he looked less like one of the biggest stars in the world and more like a nervous young man trying to survive the attention. Before the conversation could go any further, another crowd swept around him. Managers, executives, celebrities, friends. Everybody wanted a moment with Michael Jackson.
You figured that would be the last you saw of him. An hour later, you realized you were wrong. From across the VIP section, you spotted Michael standing near one of the velvet couches. Something about the situation immediately felt off.
His shoulders were tight. His smile looked forced. And standing far too close to him was Diana Ross. At first you ignored it. Then you watched Michael take a small step backward. Diana stepped forward. Michael laughed nervously. Diana moved even closer. The poor boy looked trapped. You watched his eyes scan the room before finally landing on yours.
Just for a second.
But it was enough. You set your drink down.
"Oh, hell no."
Your heels clicked against the floor as you crossed the crowded VIP section. "There you are, Michael," you announced as you stepped directly between them. "Been lookin' all over this club." The relief that crossed his face was instant. Diana's expression was the exact opposite.
"And who exactly are you?" she asked.
You smiled sweetly.
"The exit."
Michael nearly laughed. Diana didn't.
"I believe Michael can speak for himself."
"Then why he look like he's trying to escape?"
The atmosphere changed immediately. Nearby conversations quieted. People started paying attention. Diana crossed her arms.
"You got a lot of nerve."
"Nerve don't cost shit, hag.”
A few people nearby laughed. Diana took another step forward.
"You think you're funny?"
"No. I think you're making him uncomfortable."
The silence that followed felt heavy. Michael looked down at the floor. Diana looked ready to explode. Then came the shove.
Not hard.
Just enough.
Just enough to make everybody watching gasp. Your smile disappeared.
"Oh."
You slowly straightened your skirt. "So that's what we're doing tonig-."
Diana shoved you again. That turned out to be a mistake. You caught her wrist before she could pull away. The crowd immediately erupted. People jumped to their feet. Quincy Jones, being messy as ever yelled, "swing!" Michael looked absolutely horrified. Diana jerked free and swung. You ducked. Her punch missed completely. The crowd roared. She stumbled forward, nearly crashing into a nearby table. Drinks splashed across the floor. Security started trying to push through the gathering crowd.
Too late.
Diana spun around and came at you again. You grabbed her shoulders and shoved her backward. She landed against one of the couches. The crowd went wild. "Sit down somewhere!" Quincy shouted. Diana immediately sprang back up.
"You mind your business!"
"Happily," you replied. "Soon as you stop bothering him." For a moment it looked like she might back down. Instead, she charged.
Bad decision.
You stepped aside at the last second. Her foot caught the edge of the couch.
She stumbled forward and crashed face-first into a mountain of decorative cushions. The entire VIP section exploded with laughter. Even people trying to stay neutral couldn't hide their smiles. Members from Michael’s and the club’s security finally stepped in and separated everyone.
Two guards who worked for the club escorted Diana away while she shot one final glare over her shoulder. You smoothed your top and adjusted an earring.
"Ain't my fault she got bad balance."
The crowd laughed again.
As the excitement faded and the music reclaimed the room, but lowly, you turned toward Michael. He was still standing exactly where you'd left him.
Wide-eyed and speechless.
Looking like he'd just witnessed a tornado tear through the VIP section. "You aight, sugar?" you asked.
He blinked.
"Y-yeah."
"Ya sure?"
A shy smile finally appeared. The genuine kind. The kind that reached his eyes. "Nobody's ever done that for me before." You grin, sassy as ever. “Ain’t nothin’, sugar. Name’s Y/N.” he replied softly “ I’m Michael”. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The noise of Studio 54 seemed to fade away. Michael glanced down at his shoes.
Then at you. Then back down again.
Like he was trying to gather the courage to say something important. Finally, he opened his mouth. "Would- would you maybe like to dance with me" simultaneously Le freak by Chic started to play in the background. “Ahhhh freak out” The funky instrumental thumped loud.
The crowded surged back to life instantly people grabbed each other left and right, and started to dance. You smirked and grab his hand. He went without hesitation letting you lead him deeper into the club. The music swallows you both. You press close, bodies grinding and bumping to the beat. Your hands slide down his back, and grab his hips pulling him tighter against you. He’s stiff at first, inexperienced when it comes to the intimacy of that kind of dancing, but melts when your lips find his neck. You lips press against him hard, tongue tracing his skin, then claim his mouth. Michael moans softly into the kiss, hands fluttering at your sides before gripping your hips.
The make-out turns heavy fast. You back him against a dark corner, tongue pushing past his lips, tasting him deep. Your thigh slides between his legs, pressing up. Michael gasps, hips jerking forward. You grind against him, feeling the growing hardness in his pants. He’s compliant, letting you control every move. Your hands in his hair, your body pinning him. You suck on his lower lip, then bite gently. Michael’s breathing turns ragged. His cock twitches against your thigh. You keep the pressure, kissing him sloppy and wet, tongues sliding together. He whimpers, body tensing, and suddenly he’s coming in his pants, hot spurts soaking through the fabric as he shudders against you. You pull back just enough to smirk. “Damn, sugar. That eager already?” Michael hides his face in your shoulder, embarrassed but clinging to you. “I-I’m sorry… I’ve never…” You laugh low, sassy drawl thick. “No apologies, baby boy. That was hot as hell.”
You keep in touch after that night. Phone calls stretch late, his voice soft on the other end, yours full of attitude and stories. A week later he sends a limo white, gleaming, his signature ride. It pulls up outside your hotel. You slide in, finding Michael already there, nervous smile on his face. “I thought… maybe we could grab something simple?” he offers. You nod, approving. “Fast food it is, sugar. Ain’t no need to flash cash on me.” The limo cruises through the city, stopping at a greasy burger joint. You both order burgers and fries, eating in the back seat with the windows up. Grease on your fingers, laughs filling the space. Michael relaxes, telling you about the album, the pressure. Trying to lighten the mood you tease him, dragging your words. “You toooo famous to eat like regular folks? Look at you, all shy in this big ol’ ride.” Michael blushes and takes another bite.
After the food, the limo keeps rolling, city lights blurring past. Michael fidgets, then takes your hand. “Y/N… I really like you. You’re bold, you stood up for me. I was wondering if you know- uh, would you want to be the lady in my life?” His eyes are hopeful, cheeks pink. You lean in, sassy grin wide. “Yeah, sugar. I’ll be your lady. But don’t think you’re gettin’ away easy with this ole’ attitude of mine.” Michael beams, pulling you close for another kiss, this one softer but still charged. The night stretches on in the limo, hands exploring, the start of something new between you two.
(thriller!era) 𓈒 ݁ ݂ thinking about bumping into michael while he's taking a nightly walk with louie, staring in awe as the pop star strolled down the streets alone, no security present whatsoever. you stopped in your tracks—taking a small nightly walk yourself—watching as the most famous man in the world slowly traveled in your direction. he seemed to be speaking to the llama, his voice was soft and sweet, giggling to himself a few times during the conversation. his gaze fell from the animal and gradually trailed from the black asphalt up to you. he swiftly looked you up and down, shyly smiling as he stopped, the llama following behind as well.
"hello." he spoke faintly, smile still present. he stood there earnestly, one hand tucked in his pocket and the other on the rope attached to louie's halter.
"h-hi." you managed to actually let words escape out of your mouth, awesome! michael chuckled at your nervousness, the situation basically giving him a reminder that he was famous as hell.
he looked at louie, delicately stroking the fur on the side of his mouth. louie slowly blinked, his head moving to the side which allowed michael to continue his touching.
"say hello to the pretty lady, louie." he smiled, looking at you then back at louie. "hiya, pretty lady!" he mumbled through his mouth, attempting to speak as if he were the llama.
your nervousness melted into relaxation, trying to come back down to reality. the michael jackson stopped his midnight walk to talk to you. i mean, he was talking to a llama.. maybe he needed some socialism before bed to calm the nerves? you didn't know. whatever the reason may be though, you were just excited to be talking to someone so insanely popular—as well as insanely gorgeous, of course.
"what's a, um, pretty girl like you doing walking all alone?" he licked his lips, that familiar smile returning to his lips as he braced for a conversation. you giggled in return, gulping hardly from excitement. god, was it going to be a fun night.
don't really know if these rumors are true or not but i thought it would be super cute to have this happen >< also seeing it in the movie gave me the thought itself hehe. also sorry its so short my mind literally went absolutely blank towards the end pls dont hate me 😵💫 also sorry if its not as good as my other stuff, i just wanted to put something out for you all as an apology for my mini break i took.
(18+) 𓈒 ݁ ݂ pervy!michael who purposefully drops utensils & condiment bottles under the table when janetsbsf!reader comes over for dinner. everybody would look past the scene, blaming it on his frequent clumsiness he showed outside of the dinner table.
and just as everyone brushed off his incompetence, michael obviously took full advantage of the action going unnoticed. he would smile to himself, immediately looking across the floor and up at your bare, exposed legs. oh, how badly he wanted to rip off those tiny jean shorts from your body.
he wanted to fuck you silly, actually. he had heard you previously shrieking and screaming with janet over gossip sessions, but michael couldn't help but imagine those shrieks and screams as moans and whines in his own little fantasies. he would give the world to hear you moan his name, jerking off late at night to the sound of you giggling with janet in the next room.
getting lost in his own arousal and dirty thoughts, he had almost forgotten he was deep underneath the dinner table in a room full of people.
"michael?" he heard janet's voice speak. attempting to get up quickly, he bumped his head, hissing from the sting. he did manage to get his utensil at least, but his cheeks were oh so red and flushed from embarrassment. "you alright?" janet continued, cocking an eyebrow at her brother.
"yeah i'm fine, dunk..i- uh, just lost my fork." he cleared his throat, meeting eyes with you. you smiled sweetly, which didn't exactly seem to help his forming erection down below. he smiled back sheepishly, his smile slowly fading as you looked away, his bulge beginning to ache.
"i gotta have you, girl." he whispered under his breath, taking another bite from his plate into his mouth. damn his mind.
YAY more pervy!michael 🙈 i absolutely love writing this concept so much & this will def NOT be the last time you see me write for this because girl omfg.
❛ dangerous era!michael jackson 𝑥 fan!reader ❜ ᛝྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི you send michael letters never thinking much of it until the two of you end up growing close.
𐔌 ݁ 𓂃 ⓘ content ﹕ super feel good fluff, warning may cause heart to ache or feet to kick ok ok bye
May 6, 1993
Dear Applehead,
Hi applehead! It's babyface :) I know it’s been a while since I’ve last wrote. I want you to know I did receive your letters.
I’ve actually read them so many times that the corners are beginning to bend.
The one where you told me about feeding the animals made me laugh. I can practically hear you telling the story in my head. My mom thinks I’m ridiculous because every time a letter arrives, I disappear into my room for an hour and come back smiling.
I hope you’ve been taking care of yourself. I know you’re always busy and traveling somewhere new every week. Sometimes I see photos of you in magazines and wonder if you’re exhausted. You always look happy, but I know pictures don’t tell the whole story.
Things here have been pretty ordinary. University has been boring as usual. I spend most afternoons reading, listening to music, and waiting for the mailman to come down our street. I think he knows me by name now.
You asked me what my favorite place is, and I think it’s the little park near my house. There’s a bench beside a pond where I sit when I need to think. Listen to the birds chirping or the frogs croaking, even the crickets if I go late at night. Sometimes I bring one of your letters with me and read it there. It sounds silly when I write it down, but somehow it feels like talking to a friend.
Thank you for writing back all this time. I know there are millions of people who would love to hear from you, so the fact that you take the time to write to me means more than you’ll ever know.
Anyway, I should probably stop before this turns into another five-page letter.
Write back when you can.
Your friend,
Babyface.
P.S. I still think you should learn how to take a day off once in a while.
P.P.S. I know you’re probably rolling your eyes right now.
michael held the long awaited piece of paper between his fingertips as he read your letter over and over. he did indeed roll his eyes at the last part, before huffing a small laugh out of his nose because of course you knew. it had been months since he last heard from you. he thought maybe it was because he wasn’t home for a while or that you had been busy with school. either way, he was so excited to see the envelope with your name on it.
he had connected with millions of fans and yet you were the one that stood out. your first letter to michael consisted of telling him how much his music moved you, how much of an impact and influence he had on you and a little bit about your personal life. how you had grown up with an alcoholic father who was physically violent. michael seen himself in you and had to write back immediately. well, after a year and a half of writing back to back, exchanging photographs—you sent him one of you and your cat and a detail that stood out to him was the slight baby fat stored in your face that made your cheeks extra plump, which is what caused him to give you the nickname ‘babyface’ and even giving you his personal p.o. box specially for your letters, you two had grown exceptionally close. so close, in one letter michael had included his personal phone number for the two of you to be able to talk more often.
that first phone call was the most nerve wracking. your stomach jumped, turned and flipped as you hesitantly dialed the numbers in your home phone. all you kept wondering was how his voice would sound, what he would say. everything and anything was running through your mind. it took you a good thirty minutes before even deciding to push the call button. and after 3 rings the line finally clicked.
“hello?” said the familiar voice you’d hear through your headphones, but his speaking voice wasn’t as high pitched as you were expecting it to be. it was about an octave lower than what you were used to. hearing his voice made your heart fall to the bottom of your stomach though and it wasn’t some fan freak out, it was because now it felt real. instead of reading ink on a page like a book, you got to hear his tone in which how he said certain words or how he paused whenever he had to stop and think of what he’s saying.
“hi. it’s babyface.” your voice was quite small at first, just jumbled with nerves. you twisted the coil of the cord as you conversed, it was the only thing that helped you focus on his voice instead of your nerves.
“babyface!” he exclaimed over the line, “ahh, i’ve been waiting for your call.” was he really? it was so anomalous to believe that he was waiting for you. that first phone call, you two sat and talked and laughed for what felt like eternity but was really three-ish hours. and when you saw how long you sat on the line for, you couldn’t believe it. speaking with him just felt so nice, you felt like he could’ve been the only person in the world who understood you.
“i should probably let you go.” you laughed quietly, glancing over at the clock sitting on your nightstand.
there was a brief static of silence in your ear which made your stomach turn a bit.
“already?” michael said, almost a bit of a whine caught in his tone.
the disappointment in his voice caught you completely off guard but it made you smile to yourself.
“applehead, it’s been three hours.”
“has it?” the innocent playfulness showing through his voice.
“yes.” you replied, phone stuck between your shoulder as you reached for your glass of water.
there was another pause between you two before michael’s voice rang through once again.
“huh.”
you couldn’t help but laugh and neither could he.
the conversation continued for another few minutes, neither one of you really saying anything important anymore. the topics had long since run dry, yet neither of you seemed willing to be the first one to hang up.
eventually, the silence settled comfortably between the two of you.
“goodnight, babyface.”
the nickname made your heart do that familiar little flip yet you shook your head.
“goodnight, michael.”
another pause of silence.
“sleep good, okay?” his voice soft and low now.
“you too.”
and yet neither one of you decided to hang up which caused you to smile despite yourself.
“bye, michael.”
“bye, babyface.”
this time the line finally clicked.
you stared at the receiver for a moment before slowly placing it back on the hook. somehow, saying goodbye to him felt harder than calling him in the first place.
taking pictures w/ michael | a/n: implied reader is wearing lipstick (or any lip product). mj is a giggling machine, idc what anyone says!! i lowk hate this but i need to put smthg out - wc: 806
You and Michael were walking through the amusement park, your pace a little sluggish after hours of non-stop exhilaration. The blur of rides, games, and all the snacks you'd shared had finally caught up with you, leaving you dragging your feet as the day wore on. Not that you minded. If anything, it was proof of how much fun you'd had. Your arm linked through his as the two of you continued strolling past the attractions.
Your gaze wandered around your surroundings aimlessly until something caught your attention near the entrance. Nestled against a building stood a small photo booth, surprisingly unoccupied despite how crowded everything else was. Your steps came to a halt almost immediately, lightly pulling Michael to a stop beside you.
Michael glanced over at you, his brows knitting together ever so slightly before he followed your line of sight. The moment he spotted the photo booth, a knowing smile crept onto his face.
"Mm?" he hummed quietly, the corners of his mouth curved into a knowing smile. He didn't even have to ask. Judging by the look on your face, he already had a pretty good idea of what you were thinking.
You turned to him, your expression making it obvious what you were about to ask.
"Mikey," you murmured, pointing toward it. "c'mon, we have to take photos."
He looked from you to the booth and back again, a quiet laugh escaping him.
"I had a feeling that's what you were gonna say."
"Please?" you asked, giving his arm a small tug.
Michael tilted his head, pretending to consider it. After a moment, he slipped a hand into his pocket and fished around until he found a coin. When he finally pulled it out, he raised it between the two of you
"Looks like we're in luck."
Before he could say another word, you'd already laced your fingers through his and started pulling him toward the booth. Your pace suddenly much quicker than it had been only moments before.
Michael couldn't help but laugh. "So much for being tired."
"I just want to get there before anyone else." You replied quickly, convincing only yourself.
When you reached there, he dropped the coin into the slot with a soft metallic clink. Almost instantly, the machine activated, its tiny overhead light flickering on. “After you.” He said, sliding the curtain aside with one hand and gestured toward the bench with the other.
You flashed him an appreciative smile as you looked back at him before stepping inside. "Thank you."
His only response was a quiet hum and a smile of his own as he followed in after you, letting the curtain fall shut behind him.
The booth was smaller than either of you expected. Your shoulders brushed the moment he sat down beside you, and you instinctively scooted even closer to make room.
The first warning buzz echoed through the booth, and both of you looked toward the camera.
For the first photo, you both settled into something easy. Michael wrapped an arm around you and gently pulled you closer, your cheek brushing his just as the camera flashed.
Another buzz came throughout the booth, signaling the second countdown.
Michael glanced at you with a playful look already forming, “Baby, make a silly face.”
You looked back at him for a split second before dramatically puffing out your cheeks and crossing your eyes, doing your absolute best to look ridiculous.
The sight immediately made him laugh, his own attempt at staying composed completely falling apart. He tried to imitate you and somehow managed to look even sillier, which only made you laugh harder.
The picture was taken right in the middle of your shared laughter, neither of you looking particularly camera ready, which somehow made it all the more perfect. Before either of you had much time to recover, another warning buzz filled the booth.
The second the camera was about to flash, you reached over and gently squished his cheeks between your hands, leaning in to press a quick kiss against his cheek at the same time. The shutter went off after you pulled back. When you looked at him again, you looked far too pleased with yourself, especially with the faint lipstick mark now visible on his cheek.
Michael turned slightly, catching sight of your expression, and immediately frowned in mock disbelief.
“Baby…” he drawled, stretching the word out as his eyes narrowed slightly.
“What?” you asked innocently, blinking up at him like you had no idea what he meant.
He just looked at you for another second before letting out a quiet, defeated laugh, shaking his head to himself. Despite the obvious lipstick mark still decorating his cheek, he made no move to wipe it away, simply leaving it exactly where it was.
Before either of you could say anything else, the final flash went off, cutting the moment short.
After the final flash, you and Michael stepped out of the booth and waited beside it for the photos to print.
The machine rattled and hummed for a few minutes before two photo strips slid from the slot. You grabbed both, but handed one of them to Michael so you both could look at them without having to make enough room for both to see in one hand.
The noise of the park faded into the background as you stood there side by side, studying the photos. Michael’s expression softened almost immediately as he looked through each frame, his thumb brushing lightly over the glossy paper.
Looking down the photos, Michael complimented you, “You look beautiful in all of these” as his thumb brushed against each frame.
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