urmomma

michael jackson x f!reader

── .✦ synopsis - y/n, a successful prodigy singer, begins collaborating with michael jackson on his upcoming solo album, ‘off the wall.' but during one cozy night in the studio alone, michael realises he doesnt just want to make a record with you.

◁ II ▷ song(s) - shes out of my life by mj, and girlfriend <3

── .✦ cw: fluff, otw!michael, yearning, alone together, fluffy dialogue, kissing, basically michael realising hes falling in love with the reader and just two young adults liking eachother!

.𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖  the whole of america was excited for the child prodigy, michael jackson, to release his first solo album, off the wall. but nobody was more excited to begin working on it than michael himself. word has gotten out about the collaborations with well-established artists, like the beatles' pal mccartney, quincy jones, and stevie wonder. but what michael was most excited for was the rising star, y/n.

quincy presented your music to michael after hearing about your album release a years prior, and saw real potential in you. with your two successful records, your rise to fame was quick, only being 1 year younger than michael at the time. tabloids and news outlets claimed your undeniable success was for your profound beauty and impressive dancing, but they protested your voice wasn't being used to its full range. but when michael first heard your songs, it wasn't just quincy who revelled in your potential.

so when michael personally invited you to collaborate on two of the songs in his upcoming album, you couldn't say no.

despite you two being so different, you got along oh so well. in quincy's hunt to harvest real, genuine emotion in the songs you both were going to sing, he suggested you two spent some time together. long walks, late night drives, going to the movies. quincy wanted the songs to come across to the listeners as raw, and believed they needed a 'friendship,' to convince them of that. it was clear to the untrained eye that you both had fun getting to know each other. the homework quincy gave you eventually turned into sleepovers, and after spending the majority of the two months you had known each other, together, you got pretty close.

michael truly believed it was an honour to work with you. throughout production, not only did he teach you new ways of experimenting with sound, but over time you saw something in michael that no one else seemed to.

his fear.

it was like you could read his thoughts. you could tell he was anxious the world was just think of him as a breakaway child star who attempted to make a solo album. but, you always made sure to assure him,

'the whole world is going to hear michael jackson..' and how he was going to change the music industry forever.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ 

one night, you and michael where playing around in the studio. after quincy left for the day, the real work was done hours ago.

in the dimly lit studio, the soundboard was decorated with papers of song lyrics and full-up notepads, flung over the top of the various button's twinkly lights. the smell of the pot of coffee you two brewed to keep you going wafted out the room. michael's mug of the brown liquid reminded you of the dark turtleneck he had snuggled himself up in, slumped back in his chair and creasing his khaki slacks. he was dressed a little more professional than you where, with your oversized patterned sweater and levis cuffed at the ankles.

'you know, if we had you posted up on the front of the album cover... i think it would be the best selling album of all time,' he smiled.

you threw your head back with laughter before taking another sip of your coffee.

'michael.. as much as i love the two songs we're working on, can i ask... what else is there?'

michael didnt answer, he only dug his face deeper into his jumper, hiding his embarresed look plastered on his face.

'please im so desperate to hear! i want to know what the album looks like as a finished product.. we've been working so hard, i know its gonna be a triumph.' you exclaimed. and with that, you and michael began listening to what was going to be, off the wall.

'i love that one.. get on the floor, its real catchy! i'd love to hear that in a club sometime.' you complimented, sitting back down with a large sigh after having spent the last 3 minutes dancing.

'perhaps quincy will send us to go dancing together as our next homework, assignment,'' he joked.

'yeah, he really wants true emotion in both of our songs, doesn't he?' you noted, pulling your suede chair closer to his.

'yeah so do i, but im not complaining.. these past few months have been really fun for me, y/n.'

you smiled, finishing your sip before finally averting your gaze up to meet his, 'me too, michael,'

.𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖  'hit it, mike!' you commanded as you put the recording booth's headphones around your head.

while the two of you already finished girlfriend, you decided to have an experiment and play with some of the lyrics and tuning of some tracks while you both had the studio free that night.

'you know, michael this songs messy! your really gonna tell her boyfriend everything?!' you managed to blurt out inbetween your laughter. with michael sat on the office chair outside the recording booth, he fiddled with the soundboard to channel through your other song you two had been working on, she's out of my life.

with your eyes closed, you started singing out,

'shes out of my life,

and i dont know whether, to laugh or cry,

and it cuts like a knife,

shes out of my life,'

while looking out at you, so immersed in the song, michael started to reflect on all the time you had spent together.

his heart rate began to quicken. he realised how he didn't read inbetween the lines in your exchanges. he hadn't realised how much he enjoyed talking with you, hanging out with you because of how busy you both where alongside quincy's immense pressure to make the two songs perfect. but he didn't care about that anymore.

michael suddenly started thinking about life after the album was released. when will he see you again? he knows you'd have press releases and perhaps a small collaboration on live tours, but when will he be able to talk to you about his fears again? when can you go for another late night drive, or share an ice cream cone while strolling down ventura boulevard til' the early hours of the morning? michael was having an epiphany.

'now ive learned that love needs expression,

but ive learned that too late,'

it was like michael had died and his seven minutes where flashing right before his eyes -

and it was all you.

all the times he had called you, begging to hang out or see your face, telling himself it was just what quincy wanted. but it was michael needed. how could he have been so blind, such an idiot? he never wanted to let those moments slip away again, and with the sudden threat of all being taken away, tears began to trough in his eyes.

too consumed in his newfound grief, he hadn't realised you had taken your headphones off your head, wrapping them loosely around your neck.

'how was that?'

you look up at michael briefly. you always got lost in your singing, and now you where giddy, unable to stand still after performing what you considered was a perfect take.

michael rose up out of his chair, almost in a trance walking through the door to the recording booth and shutting it behind him.

'i think that one was good, no?' brushing past the fact that he didn't respond, you began putting the headphones back on the stand near the ground,

not paying attention to the distance that michael seemed to be closing between you and him.

you looked up to him, 'michael? whats wrong?'

"...was it that bad?'

just inches away from you, you heart began jumping out of your chest. he never dropped eye contact.

what is he doing..

and why is he getting ... so close?"

just inches apart, he plants his large, warm hands on either side of your face, cupping the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

those eyes you had kept a responsible distance from in the past, where unbelievably close now.

'm-michael?' you couldn't help but scan his face, raising your brows with worry. with your face starting to burn up, you questioned - do i have a massive spider in my hair or something?!

he slowly leaned in, angling his head to close the small gap between your mouths, stopping briefly before shifting his tantalising gaze from your lips up to your eyes.

almost like hes looking for permission,

and you dont back away.

knowing hes got it, and never wanting to let it go, to let you go, he leans in and presses your lips together.

second fic kinda nervous x came up w this in kitchen while singing girlfriend

michael jackson x f!reader

── .✦ synopsis- you and your professor, mr jackson, wind up in an accidental intimate moment at your university’s end of semester ball/party.

◁ II ▷ song - sexy boy - air, but if your looking for something softer, try lady in red - chris de burgh <3

── .✦ cw: no smut (sorrryyy) angst, sexual tension, mature era michael, professor, age gap, forbidden love, university romance.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ ‘y/n? are you with us?’

you awoke at the sound of your poetry professors voice, averting your eyes back from the classroom's window to him. ‘sorry, sir.’ you briefly exchanged, his gaze lingering on you before turning around back to face the chalkboard. you examined his long, shaggy black hair that fell on his white blazer.

professor jackson had always been intriguing to you. the way he was passionate about what he taught, how dedicated to the craft he was. He was a professional in his field, a kind, honest guy who you couldn’t, for the life of you fully understand.

this semester has been, odd.

socially, you were fine. a steady group of friends, the odd meaningless fling every college student experiences. but it had been odd the wrong reasons. you couldn’t get your mind off him, and you had no clue as to why. you'd convinced yourself you wanted to understand how he worked, what made him tick.

from what you could tell, mr jackson was a traditional man. you admired how different he was compared to your other teachers. he mostly kept to himself; he didn't go to many of the school lead functions, nor the teachers ones at that, but he always attended the charity events which you thought fondly of. you couldn't give an answer as to why you knew about his whereabouts whenever it came to social events, but its almost like your mind had created a register entirely for him. His slender frame was always clothed with fully breasted suits, pristine slacks and crisp t- shirts that slipped effortlessly underneath some sort of patterned vest. with such pristine style, his daily body language reflected that of confidence and security,

even if his voice did shake a little when he asked you a question.

as your eyes scanned over the classroom, you soaked up the tranquility of it. the old dark wooden boards that pleated the ceiling, the vintage bookcases lined with fiction, to the paintings of old men in extravagant gold framings. you glanced back to your tall, well dressed teacher once more. you studied how small the chalk looked in-between his large, long fingers, or how when he peered over his shoulder just how sharp his jawline was. you treated his frame, standing at the top of the room, as something to study intently.

‘well, I see’n you all looking at the clock above me, which probably means i’ve overrun,’

‘again.’ said another student, the rest of the class erupted into laughter, including him.

‘my apologies, guys, that’s on me. i suppose you’re all excited to get back and prepare for your party tonight?’ he dipped his glasses down to look at everyone, the class agreeing with him, before asking who was going.

and you couldn’t work out why he looked at you as he said it.

as you raised your hand along with mostly everyone else’s, he briefly averts his gaze back to you once again before nodding and beginning to pack up.

it didn't matter, he never attends student functions anyway.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖

‘the main hall is unlike you’d ever seen it before!’ your friend rushed out to tell you before walking in. as you stumbled inside, you looked to see there was silver tassel bunting hung from every wooden beam, circular tables and chairs lined with names from all across the college, finished off with a golden candle stick in the middle. the lighting so low the couples would have no problem sneaking off to the corners of the room. and a disco ball waiting for the night to start, hanging amongst extravagant chandeliers twinkling above each table. the budget was spent, and spent well.

‘fuck these are hard to walk in,’ you whispered to yourself, tripping up on your gold heel that accompanied your dress suitably. you’d never been much for fashion, but tonight you looked nice. your dress was elegant; a black square neck with just enough cleavage to get away with, softly synched in at the waist with a polite trail of black lace behind you. it reminded you of what a certain professor was wearing, just a few steps away.

mr jackson was looking elevated, casually tucking his hands in his black velvet blazer. he was wearing black sunglasses, the ones he wore in class that made your mind wander about what lay behind them. your eyes continued to roam down his elongated figure, landing on his dark slacks, accompanied by the contrast of his white socks and black loafers. you weren't only drawn to him this evening by his fashion choices, but what was he doing here? he never comes to these sorts of things.

and he looked like he was looking directly behind you.

yet you didn’t have a second to elaborate before your friends thrusted themselves into small talk with the group of professors next to him. they didn’t interest you as much as the one now standing opposite you. both on outsides of the conversation, you look at each other as he takes of his glasses and tucks them away at the top of his shirt, tentatively exposing his collarbone. you shoot a small, polite smile at him. what was it about him that made you so nervous?

as your friends talked their professors ears off, michael smiles back at you, warmly. with the ice somewhat broken, he looks you up and down, taking his time as he soaked in your dress. you watched intently at his lips parting, before resuming eye contact as he mouths a sentence at you.

except you couldn’t hear him at all, as a result of the music blasting through the hall’s speakers. you put your hand up to your ear, ‘what?!’ raising your voice. he moved a few steps closer, almost able to make out what he was saying, yet you still couldn’t. you almost made a mental note to get your ears checked come monday. your furred your brows in frustration,

before he closed what was left of the already small gap,

‘i said you look beautiful, tonight, Y/N.’ he spoke softly into your ear, he lips eagerly close to you that you could feel his hot breath.

your heart rate quickened. your chest rising and falling to meet his.

you could smell his cologne as you looked down his shirt to see his bare chest. he moved his head back, his soft black hair brushing your cheekbone. your eyes shot up as a result, staring into his almost with concern.

‘brown,’ you thought to yourself, finally finding out what colour those eyes that stared into your soul on a day to day basis where. you both remained just inches away from each others lips. the simple compliment was like warm honey dripping, coating your soul. you’d heard this regard a million times before, so why did it sound so good coming from his mouth? his soft, delicate voice? your locked gaze drifted from his eyes to his lips, his perfectly shaped lips. you wondered how his cupids bow would feel against yours.

you stopped your wandering mind by exhaling and stepping back. is this the feeling you were feeling this whole time? attraction?

michael’s eyes never took a seconds break off yours. this was the first time he could stare at you without worrying that you might catch his eye, often as you would do in the classroom. his gaze bathed across your face. not only was your heart rate through the roof, but his was too.

he never knew when he’d have the opportunity to be this close to you again, so when you pulled back he was hesitant. he averted his gaze to the ground, feeling that he had made you uncomfortable. have I gone too far? he thought to himself.

if only he knew that you wished he went further, even if you wouldn’t admit it to yourself.

the next few seconds where a blur, as your friends dragged you by the arm to find your seats, finally finishing their conversations with the group of professors. you found it hard to believe that in a moment of such tension, such heat, other people were going on with their conversations. your body felt weak, feeling that your heart rate had slowed and taken your stability with it. you had felt time slow, the once loud music gone quiet as you two drenched in each others person. as you slowly came back to reality, you walked around the various tables scattered around the hall to find your seat.

what the hell just happened? did he feel that too? there was no way he couldn’t have. what the hell am I thinking? he was just complimenting one of his students you thought to yourself. probably said the same thing to all of his electives, you manifested.

the moment, you deemed, was not special at all.

finally seeing a handwritten, cursive note on top of a plate that looked like your name, you felt relief. you collapsed into the chair, crossing your legs. after a few moments of silence, you realised the chairs around you where empty. you decided to have a glance at who was sitting next to you, peering over to the gold-bordered note on your left. to your relief, it was one of your guy friends from your english class. ‘he’s nice enough,’ you muttered under your breath. then, peering over to look to the note on your right, you picked it up and unfolded the rough card between your fingers,

‘prof. jackson.’

Thank u for reading my first ever fic. well oneshot. idk what to say xoxo

my inspo for this was not only the lack of professor fanfics for michael as an enthusiast😀😀 but this tiktok linked below:) thank you very much!