Michael Jackson Imagines (re-imagine)

Encounter (Cutie? 2)

As I woke up in bed, the dull ache in my hip lingered, though it seemed to have eased somewhat. Grabbing a magazine, I spotted Michael Jackson on the cover, instantly igniting excitement within me.

"Oh my goodness!" I whispered, eagerly flipping through the pages.

Michael Jackson was taking a hiatus from touring, focusing instead on releasing new music. His manager, Frank DiLeo, mentioned the necessity for Michael to rest due to tension and stress in his body. The singer confessed to grappling with insomnia post-concerts and expressed the need for recuperation.

Closing the magazine, I sighed. "Michael, you truly need some rest, my dear angel," I chuckled, embracing the magazine before rolling around in bed, oblivious to the resurgence of discomfort in my hip.

"Okay, that's enough. You're hurting yourself, Y/N," I said to myself.

A voice came from the doorway.

Startled, I called out, "Who's there?!"

"It's me again," a familiar voice responded.

"Oh, it's you! Please, come in," I beckoned, gently opening the door as he entered, prompting a surprised expression from me.

"What's wrong?" he said

I exclaimed.

As I attempted to rise from the bed, I slipped and cried out in pain. "Help me, please!" I pleaded, and he hurried to assist, carefully settling me back onto the bed, genuine concern etched on his face. "You're Michael Jackson?!," I realized.

"Yeah, sorry for not mentioning it earlier," he admitted, scratching the back of his head.

"It's amusing, before I knew you were MJ, I used to jokingly call you 'Sugar Plum' because of how calm, gentle, and charming you were when we first met," I chuckled, and he joined in.

His laughter was infectious. "You know, Y/N, I appreciate you treating me like a regular person, unlike others who constantly scream my name," he said wistfully, yet with a smile.

"Hello? I'm practically trembling right now, being with the King of Pop!" I joked.

He laughed softly. "But seriously, you see me as just an ordinary guy. That means a lot, and I'm grateful to have met you," he confessed, pulling me into a warm hug.

"Thank you," he whispered tenderly.

"You're welcome."

"Now, get dressed. We're going out," he declared.

I gasped in surprise. "Right now? I haven't even unpacked yet. I don't have anything to wear!"

"You're already stunning. Come on!" he encouraged, taking my hand as we hurried out of the room to the rooftop, where a helicopter awaited us.

"We've only just met, and you're taking me on a helicopter ride?" I gaped at him incredulously.

"A beautiful lady deserves royal treatment," he assured me, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.

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After a few hours, we arrived at a sprawling white estate nestled near the beach.

"Wow, this place is absolutely stunning," I marveled as I strolled down the grand pathway.

"See? I told you, a lovely lady deserves to be treated like royalty," he remarked.

"How did everything come together so quickly?" I chuckled in amazement.

"It's because I couldn't bear the thought of losing you again," he confessed quietly.

Pausing in my steps, I turned to him, bewildered. "What do you mean? I need some context here."

He hesitated before revealing, "Okay, I'll be honest. I've taken to wearing disguises when I stroll through downtown, and I happened to spot you in one of my favorite shops. I found myself admiring you from a distance."

I was speechless. "I... I don't know what to say."

He then admitted that he was aware of my relationship status, and it hurt him, despite the fact that we were strangers. He matched his pace to mine as we continued walking.

"Later, when I saw you at the hotel, I thought, 'This is the perfect opportunity,'" he explained.

Unable to suppress my smile, I teasingly quipped, "Well, Mr. Jackson, do your best."

His grin widened as he leaned in closer, murmuring, "Oh, I will. Let's go on a date shall we?"

"We shall."