MJ IMAGINES (World with Applehead) ON GOING

Sweet morning

1981

You woke up around 5 a.m., feeling thirsty again. Of course, you forgot your water bottle—again. You always forgot it, even though you promised yourself every night you wouldn't be "dramatic and dehydrated at 3 a.m."

So you got up and headed downstairs. As you reached the kitchen, you stopped.
Mrs. Katherine and Janet were there, along with a maid, and Jackie, who was already looking way too entertained for this early in the morning.

"Good morning," you said sweetly.

"Good morning, Y/N," Janet replied, immediately pulling you into a hug which you hugged her back ofcourse,

"Good morning, dear. How did you sleep?" Mrs. Jackson asked warmly.

"It was good, Mrs. Jackson. Thank you," you replied politely.

"Good morning, sister-in-law," Jackie said, wiggling his eyebrows like he had just won a championship.

Janet instantly gasped. "Ohhh right, sister-in-law," Oh no. Mrs. Jackson tilted her head. "Sister-in-law?"

Your soul briefly left your body. You stared at them like: please do not start this in front of the queen of this house. Before you could recover—

"Good morning to our future Mrs. Michael Ja—"

"Good morning, Randy," you cut in immediately, smiling so sweetly it was almost dangerous.

Randy blinked. Then laughed. "Woah, okay, chill."

"Chill?" you whispered, still smiling. "It's 5 a.m." They all started laughing like hyenas.
You were about to recover when—

"So, mother..." Randy continued loudly, "We have a new member of the Jackson clan." You slowly turned your head.

No. Please. Not again.

Mrs. Jackson looked curious. "Really? Who?" The table erupted in giggles. You exhaled slowly. "Oh my God..." Janet grinned.

"May I introduce you... the future Mrs. Michael Jackson." Randy stood up dramatically and bowed like he was announcing royalty.

Your hands went straight to your face. "I'm moving to another country." From the corner of your eye, you saw Michael walking in.

Perfect timing. Absolutely perfect. Of course.

"Oh yes, Mother," Michael said smoothly, joining in like it was the most normal thing in the world. "It's true."

Your head snapped toward him. Traitor.

Mrs. Jackson gasped. "Oh my goodness! When did this start?"

Randy leaned closer to her like he was delivering breaking news. "It's been happening... spiritually." You nearly choked.

Then Mr. Joe appeared like a final boss. "Who is the future Mrs. Michael Jackson?"
Silence. Everyone pointed at you.

You pointed at them back like: this is a setup.

"Y/N," Janet said innocently, smiling too much.

"Don't—" you started.

"You have my blessing," Mr. Jackson said casually. The room exploded. Screaming. Laughing. Teasing.

You covered your face completely. "I hate all of you."

Michael leaned slightly toward you, clearly amused. His hand brushed your thigh under the table.

"Just ignore them," he whispered. You peeked through your fingers. "Easy for you to say, Your Majesty." He smirked.

After breakfast, you volunteered to wash the dishes, partly to be helpful, partly to escape the Jackson family interrogation committee.

The kitchen finally felt peaceful. Too peaceful. Until you felt someone behind you. You turned slightly.

Michael. Of course.

"Sorry about them," he said softly, leaning beside you. "They get... excited."

"You think?" you said, laughing. "I almost got promoted to wife without consent."
He chuckled. You tried to tuck your hair behind your ear, but your hands were full of soap. You frowned slightly.

Without saying anything, Michael gently reached out and tucked it behind your ear for you. The moment froze.

Your faces were suddenly very close. Too close actually.  He looked at your eyes, then your lips, then your eyes again.

You blinked slowly, heart suddenly forgetting how to function. For a second, you thought he might actually kiss you.

But instead, he smiled softly like he was holding himself back on purpose and leaned in slightly... He kissed the corner of your lips.

Not quite there. But close enough to make your brain malfunction anyway. You stared at him.
He giggled. "What?" he asked innocently.

"You are-" you pointed at him weakly, "Hmm, dangerous."

He laughed. "You're cute when you panic."

"I'm not panicking."

"You are absolutely panicking."

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling too much to be convincing.

"I should go," he said, stepping back slowly. "Rehearsals."

Then he leaned in and kissed your forehead gently, it was soft and warm, that it melted you a little. Before he could leave, you suddenly stepped forward.

"Michael."

He turned back. "Hmm?"

You quickly kissed his cheek. Fast. Shy. Brave.

His entire face turned red. He looked down immediately, biting his lip like he was trying not to smile too hard.

"You're going to make me late," he said softly.

"Good," you replied.

He laughed, shook his head, and gently pinched your cheek. "I'll see you later."

"I'll be waiting," you said softly. He paused at the door, looked back at you, and gave you one last wave. You waved back. The door closed and the silence returned.

You stood there for a second. Then suddenly— "I cannot believe I almost became Mrs. Michael Jackson at 5 a.m.," you whispered to yourself.

And then you quietly started squealing while washing the dishes all over again.