Imagines of you or an OC with our precious baby, Michael. (Y/N is a black woman)
Not all imagines will take place in the This Is It era, or in Michael's later years in general, I just liked the way that sounds.
*Requests are allowed.*
First publish...
New York City, New York, November 2001 (Morning of the signing)
*Third Person POV*
The room was still and silent other than the sound of the curtains billowing from the breeze the window put off and the AC unit blowing out cool air.
Michael woke up a few minutes after six, rubbing his eyes and stretching. His hair looked all types of crazy like that one Bratz doll meme.
AN: had to add this in case yall didn't know what i was talking abt 💀
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Pushing the hair out of his face, he got up, trying not to wake you. As he combed through his hair he reminded himself to never fall asleep without a bonnet again.
After a quick shower, he got dressed and brushed his teeth, starting on your breakfast.
Michael was a great cook, and he would often brag that he was better than you, which you couldn't deny cause all your ass could make was pancakes and spaghetti, one of those which he hated.
He fried some bacon and made some of the fluffiest pancakes you'd ever seen. He plated everything up, grabbed forks and syrup, and brought it over to you, sitting the tray holding the food down onto the nightstand.
He nudged you a little bit and even yelled in your ear to no avail. As a last resort option, he'd stupidly decided to jump on the bed to wake you up.
"Y/N, get up girl!" he shouted, hopping all over the bed in hopes you'd wake up from your deep slumber sometime soon.
Eventually, you did, but only cause Michael's big-boned ass jumped on your foot. "Oww, shit!" He stopped jumping and looked at you, concern lacing his face. "Michael get your clown ass down from on top of that bed."
He smiled sheepishly, sitting on the edge of the bed before taking your foot into his lap to examine it. "I'm sorry," he apologized meaningfully, knowing you could and would hold a grudge.
"I know you ar-" You started sniffing like a bloodhound, looking for whatever was causing the delicious smell. "Aww, you made me breakfast?" Your face softened and he smiled at you.
"Yeah, I did and-"
"Wait no, I'm still mad at you. Thanks for the food but that doesn't fix your heavy-set body coming down on my foot."
He turned away from you and rolled his eyes, fixing you a plate and handing it to you. "Here. I'd eat but my 'heavy-set body' doesn't need to gain any more weight."
"Boy shut up and eat."
"What am I going to do with you girl," he thought while shaking his head, fixing himself a plate, and eating.
