Starstruck ⋆⭒˚.⋆
Notes : English is not my first language, and this is my first time posting my written, so please, be gentle, And let me know if there are any kinda of mistakes!! <3
Type: kinda shy Michael Jackson pre-Thriller era X F!Reader, Michael falls in love with a rock star, but doesn't know how to approach her, and the reader ends up becoming his muse, and even though he's famous, he gets nervous around her
Warming: I was heavily inspired by Amy Lee, Stevie Nicks, Poly Styrene and kinda Avril, But only in terms of discography, style, and also because I'm a big fan of theirs and ended up being inspired by them, But I don't want that to spoil your reading experience, so I don't intend to describe the reader's physical appearance in detail. Fluffy!!
Wc: 3k
It was a dry Saturday night. Michael was sitting in his room, a notebook open on his desk. The pages were filled with scribbles, unfinished lyric drafts, and random drawings. He felt exhausted and uninspired. After a few minutes of staring at the paper, he got up and let himself fall onto the bed.
Picking up the remote control, he turned on the television and began flipping through channels without much interest. His gaze wandered across the screen as he sighed in boredom until something caught his attention.
It was just another concert being broadcast on some random channel. On stage, a rock band was performing for an excited crowd. However, it wasn't the music that made him stop changing channels.
It was her.
The lead singer commanded the stage with a presence that was impossible to ignore. She sang with all the passion she possessed, as if every word carried a piece of her soul. There was something about her that radiated freedom, intensity, and confidence. Michael felt like a child seeing something fascinating for the first time. He became completely still, unable to take his eyes off the screen.
At the height of the song, she dropped to her knees while reaching an impressive note. Sweat glistened beneath the stage lights, and her heavy breathing revealed the energy she had poured into the performance. When the song ended, she brushed a few strands of hair away from her face and let out a spontaneous laugh.
Michael felt his heart race.
That laugh was contagious, light, and genuine. To say he was merely impressed would be a huge understatement. He was completely captivated by her voice, her presence, and the way she seemed to belong on that stage.
Without realizing it, he continued watching as you thanked the audience for the love and support they had shown to the band Ashes of June. Every word seemed to bring him closer to that figure who, only a few minutes earlier, had been nothing more than a stranger on television.
The studio was relatively quiet that afternoon. Michael was sitting in one of the chairs with a notebook open on his lap, but several minutes had passed without him writing a single word. The pen remained motionless between his fingers while his thoughts wandered somewhere far away.
Across from him, Quincy Jones was absentmindedly flipping through a newspaper. He had noticed Michael's restlessness for quite some time, but chose not to comment on it.
After a few minutes of silence, Michael reached over and turned on the small television in the studio. He began changing channels without much purpose until he stopped on a talk show.
Immediately, his posture changed.
On the screen, you were sitting in a chair on the set, answering the host's questions. Michael rested his chin on his hand and began carefully observing every gesture, every smile, every answer. There was something almost adorable about the focused expression you wore, like a lonely puppy watching someone it liked.
Quincy lowered his newspaper discreetly and glanced at him.
"Q... do you know the band Ashes of June?" Michael asked, trying to sound casual.
Quincy looked back at him.
"Yeah, I do. They're a relatively new band, I think. Why?"
Without realizing it, Michael smiled slightly.
"Just curious. Do you know the lead singer's name?"
One eyebrow immediately arched.
"[name]. She's been getting quite a lot of attention from the media lately, which is remarkable for a rock singer. Though you know how they are... they usually treat bands in that genre as if they're nothing but noise without a message."
Michael let out a quiet laugh as he closed his notebook.
"I think her voice is beautiful. And she seems to really love what she does."
Quincy's second eyebrow nearly joined the first.
"You're interested in her, aren't you?"
Michael turned his head so quickly that it almost looked suspicious.
"No! I mean... not exactly. I just saw one of her performances on television the other day. It was by chance. No big deal."
"No big deal?" Quincy repeated, amused.
"I'm serious! I just thought the performance was... good."
"Good?" Quincy held back a laugh. "Michael, you've been staring at that television for fifteen minutes without blinking."
Michael sank a little deeper into the chair.
"I have not."
"Yes, you have."
"No, I haven't."
"Yes, you have."
Michael sighed in defeat.
Quincy finally set the newspaper down on the table.
"Alright, Mr. 'Definitely Not in Love.' Why don't you just ask her out?"
"What?"
"Everyone who walks into this room can tell you're not paying attention to your music. You're thinking about her."
Michael rubbed the back of his neck, visibly embarrassed.
"But what if she thinks I'm too silly?"
"Silly?"
"Yeah. She seems so confident. So authentic. She gets on that stage and seems completely free. Maybe she likes people who live in the same world she does, who listen to the same kind of music, who understand it better than I do..."
Quincy stared at him for a few seconds before starting to laugh.
"Michael, you're Michael Jackson."
"That's exactly the problem."
"What do you mean?"
Michael looked back at the television.
"I don't want her to see Michael Jackson. I want her to see just Michael. And I'm afraid that when that happens, she'll discover I'm stranger than I seem."
"Strange?"
"A little."
"A little?" Quincy repeated.
"Maybe a lot."
The two of them ended up laughing.
Quincy picked up the remote control and lowered the volume of the television a little.
"Listen. She's probably going to Slash's birthday party."
Michael immediately lifted his head.
"You think so?"
"I'm almost sure. She's growing in the rock scene, and he knows a lot of people in that world. And even if she wasn't invited, all it takes is one phone call."
Michael tried to look indifferent, but the sudden sparkle in his eyes completely gave him away.
"I'm not excited."
"Of course you're not."
"Not at all."
"Obviously."
"I'm just considering possibilities."
Quincy smiled.
"Consider all you want. Just try writing a song before spending another hour staring at the television."
Michael looked at the screen one more time, watching you smile during the interview.
Then he smiled too.
Maybe Quincy was right.
Michael turned his attention back to the notebook, trying to get back to work. He scribbled down a few random words, crossed half of them out, and began tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair in a distracted rhythm.
Maybe he could finally concentrate.
Maybe.
Then something on the television caught his attention.
"So," the host said with a smile, "we'd like to know, do you have any idols or singers you admire?"
On the screen, the young woman let out a shy laugh as she thought about her answer.
"Well..."
She tilted her head to the side.
"When I was a child, I loved—and still love—The Ronettes, Grace Slick, and Janis Joplin. I was also very sad when Janis passed away. She really inspired me a lot, especially when it came to getting into rock music. My mother always said I was a very loud and restless child."
The host laughed.
"I can imagine."
She laughed too.
"Yeah, I definitely was a handful."
"But what about nowadays? Let's say... among the younger artists. Who do you usually listen to?"
[name] made an amused expression.
"Whenever I answer that, people always seem a little surprised. I think they expect me to listen only to rock music."
She shrugged.
"But when I was little, I absolutely loved the Jackson 5."
Michael immediately looked up from his notebook.
"My mom and my brother used to tease me a lot because of that."
The host smiled.
"Why?"
She brought a hand to her face, clearly embarrassed.
"Because I was always saying that I was going to marry Michael Jackson."
Both women burst into laughter.
"And what was your plan?" the host asked.
"In my head, it made perfect sense! I was only one year younger than him, so I thought that would solve everything."
Her laughter echoed throughout the studio.
Back in the recording studio, Michael froze completely.
The pen slipped from his fingers.
Quincy watched the scene over the top of his newspaper and had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.
On the television, [name] continued speaking.
"But honestly, I still like him a lot."
Michael immediately started paying attention again.
"I bought his new solo album, Off the Wall, and I loved it."
His heart began racing.
"It's such a sweet album. Very romantic too."
She smiled.
"It may not seem like it, but I absolutely love romantic songs."
The host raised an eyebrow.
"Even though you're a rock singer?"
"Especially because I'm a rock singer."
Both of them laughed.
"And, to be honest..."
She seemed to think for a moment before shrugging.
"I still think he's kind of cute, you know?"
Michael felt his face grow warm.
Very warm.
From that moment on, [name] continued talking about other artists she admired, but he couldn't hear a single thing anymore.
His mind had simply stopped functioning.
Quincy watched everything with an increasingly bigger smile.
Michael kept staring at the television as if he had just witnessed a miracle.
"Well..."
Quincy finally said, trying to hold back his laughter.
"I think you've got a chance."
Michael didn't even respond.
"She literally just said on television that she wanted to marry you when she was a kid."
Quincy gave him a playful pat on the shoulder.
"And she also said she still thinks you're cute."
Michael hid his face in his hands.
"Quincy..."
"I'm just repeating what she said."
"It was a childhood crush."
"Sure."
"I had childhood crushes too."
"I'm sure you did."
"That doesn't mean anything."
Quincy let out a laugh.
"Doesn't mean anything?"
Michael looked away, but he couldn't hide the shy smile that kept appearing on his face.
"Probably not."
"Right."
"I'm serious."
"Michael, she bought your album."
"A lot of people bought it."
"She said you're cute."
"Quincy..."
"And she wanted to marry you."
Michael groaned in embarrassment.
"You're not going to stop, are you?"
"No."
The producer folded the newspaper and stood up from his chair.
"Whether it's nonsense or not, you've already got an advantage."
Michael watched him walk toward the telephone.
"What are you doing?"
"Helping."
"Quincy..."
"I'm calling Slash."
"Quincy!"
But it was already too late.
The producer picked up the phone with a satisfied smile.
"If I know Slash, he'll love playing cupid."
Michael sank into the chair again, hiding his face while Quincy started dialing.
Despite the embarrassment he felt, he couldn't stop the small smile that appeared on his lips.
For the first time, the idea of meeting [name] seemed a little less impossible.
Slash's birthday party was already in full swing when Michael arrived. The place was crowded with musicians, producers, journalists, and well-known figures from the Los Angeles music scene. Laughter, conversations, and the sound of guitars echoed throughout the venue, creating an atmosphere that was both vibrant and chaotic at the same time.
Despite being used to events like that, Michael seemed more nervous than he usually was. His eyes scanned the room almost constantly as he tried to convince himself that he was there just to have fun.
It wasn't working.
Then he saw her.
[Name] was standing near one of the tables, talking with a few musicians. The black leather dress stood out beneath the colorful party lights. The metallic zippers subtly reflected every beam of light that crossed the room. The oversized jacket hanging loosely from her shoulders gave her appearance an effortless look, while the silver chains and crucifixes completed her distinctly rock-inspired style.
Michael immediately recognized the smile he had seen so many times on television.
His heart raced.
"Go on," a voice beside him said.
Michael turned and found Quincy holding a drink.
"No."
"Yes."
"I'm not."
"You've spent weeks talking about that woman."
"I have not spent weeks talking about her."
Quincy simply raised an eyebrow.
Michael sighed.
"Maybe a few weeks."
"Exactly. Now go talk to her."
Before he could come up with another excuse, Quincy simply gave him a gentle push toward the group.
Michael shot the producer an offended look.
Quincy only smiled.
With little choice, he walked over to where she was standing.
For a few moments, he watched as she finished a conversation. When the other musicians stepped away, Michael took a deep breath.
"Hi."
The woman turned around.
For a moment, she looked as though she couldn't believe what she was seeing.
"Oh my God."
Michael smiled shyly.
"That's usually not a good sign."
"No, that's not it."
She placed a hand over her chest.
"I just... didn't expect to see you here."
"I was invited."
"That makes sense."
A smile appeared on her lips.
"It's still strange, though."
"Strange in a bad way?"
"Strange in a good way."
The answer helped Michael relax a little.
"So you're the rock girl."
"And you're Michael."
"I think we already knew that."
She laughed.
It was exactly the same laugh that had held him captive in front of the television months earlier.
Natural.
Contagious.
Genuine.
The conversation started slowly, but soon flowed surprisingly easily. They talked about music, tours, artistic influences, and backstage stories. Michael discovered that she was much funnier than he had imagined. [Name] discovered that Michael was much less intimidating than he seemed on stage.
The hours passed almost without them noticing.
At one point, they drifted away from the main area of the party and found a quieter spot on the balcony.
The music could still be heard in the distance, mixed with the sound of the night breeze.
"You know, I really didn't expect you to be so easy to talk to."
Michael pretended to be offended.
"Was that a compliment?"
"It was."
"It sounded like an insult."
"I meant that you seem much more approachable in person."
"That's a little better."
She smiled.
For a few moments, both of them remained silent.
It wasn't an uncomfortable silence.
It was the kind of silence that happens when two people simply enjoy each other's company.
She looked out at the city lights in the distance before turning her eyes back to him.
"Can I confess something?"
"That depends."
"I really did have a huge crush on you when I was a kid."
Michael laughed.
"I heard."
She covered her face.
"Oh my God."
"The interview."
"I knew I was going to regret that story."
"So it was true?"
"Unfortunately."
"You were planning to marry me."
"I was eight years old."
"It still counts."
"It does not."
Michael kept smiling.
She shook her head in defeat.
"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"
"Probably not."
They both laughed.
When the conversation faded again, their eyes lingered on each other longer than before.
There was something different about that moment.
Something neither of them seemed willing to interrupt.
Michael felt his nervousness return.
But for the first time that night, it didn't feel like a bad thing.
[Name] took a small step toward him.
"You're very different from what I imagined."
"Is that a good thing?"
"Very."
"Hey..."
His voice came out softer than he intended.
She lifted her eyes to meet his.
"Yes?"
Michael let out a small nervous laugh.
As used as he was to standing on stages in front of thousands of people, this felt much more frightening.
"I wanted to ask you something."
"You can ask."
He hesitated for a few seconds.
"Can I kiss you?"
For a moment, she simply looked at him.
Then a genuine smile appeared on her face.
One of those smiles that made her eyes light up.
"You can."
The answer made Michael smile immediately.
The distance between them felt small now.
He moved closer slowly, giving her all the time she needed to pull away if she changed her mind.
But she didn't pull away. On the contrary, she closed the remaining distance until their faces were close.
The kiss happened softly, almost shyly at first.
Neither of them seemed to be in a hurry.
There was only the peaceful feeling of finally sharing a moment that both of them, in different ways, had wanted throughout the entire night.
Michael gently rested one hand on her waist while [Name] closed her eyes for a few seconds, allowing herself to simply enjoy the moment.
When they pulled apart, they remained close.
Close enough to notice the smiles appearing on each other's faces at almost the same time.
For a few moments, neither of them said anything.
They simply looked at one another.
As if they were both trying to process the fact that it had really happened.
For a few seconds, they just stared at each other.
Then she started laughing.
"I can't believe that happened."
"Neither can I."
"My eight-year-old self would be losing her mind right now."
"Mine would too."
She raised an eyebrow.
"You had a crush on yourself when you were eight?"
Michael burst out laughing.
"That's not what I meant."
"That's exactly what you meant."
The conversation continued lightheartedly until someone appeared looking for Michael for a photo with some of the other guests.
Before he left, she pulled a small piece of paper from her pocket.
"I think it would be a good idea to continue this conversation sometime."
"I was thinking the same thing."
She wrote down her number and handed the paper to him with a smile.
"Now you have no excuse not to call me."
Michael carefully tucked the paper away as if it were something extremely valuable.
"And you have no excuse not to answer."
"Fair enough."
As he walked away to return to the party, Michael glanced back at her one last time.
She smiled.
For the first time since he had seen her on television, the idea of getting to know her was no longer a distant dream.
Now, it was only the beginning of a story.
