Book I Of the 'Not Vanilla' Imagine Series.
𝚃𝚆: includes strong language, Sexual content, Explicit content.
Readers discretion is Advised
Imagines Between you & Michael Jackson.
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★ 1988 Neverland Ranch. Word Count:4.2k
Michael had recently purchased a new home for both of you while taking a much-needed break from his tour. The house wasn't fully furnished yet, except for the library, and that was where you and Michael spent most of your time together, unless you were staying in the guesthouse at night or visiting his family home.
One sunny afternoon, while you were cleaning up the house and hanging photos on the walls, Michael was in the library, sprawled out on the floor with his sketchpad. Drawing was a cherished pastime for him, something he loved to do whenever he wasn't touring, recording, or visiting hospitals to see the children. His passion for drawing had been with him since he was a little kid. Michael was an artist in many ways, with different talents that you adored.
"Baby, can you come in here?" Michael called out from the library.
"Yes, give me a second. I'm finishing something," you replied as you hung a picture of you and Michael in the living room. It was a photo from his 21st birthday at Studio 54, the same day he asked you to be his girlfriend. You placed it next to your wedding photo from 1984, a day you would always cherish.
"Baby, please," Michael begged, his voice carrying a note of urgency.
"Okay, I'm coming," you said, dropping what you were doing. You ran across the house, your socks sliding slightly against the hardwood floor, and made your way to the library where Michael was seated on the floor, surrounded by crumpled pieces of paper.
"What's wrong?" you asked, sitting down next to him. He looked up at you and smiled, his hand brushing against your shoulder, feeling the exposed skin since you were wearing one of his button-ups.
"I can't think of anything. I keep throwing it away," he said, frustration evident in his voice.
You picked up one of the crumpled pieces of paper and examined it. "Are you supposed to be drawing me?" you asked, recognizing a rough sketch of yourself.
Michael nodded, a hint of a pout on his lips. "Yes, but I can't focus."
"Why not?" you asked, brushing a single strand of hair from his face.
"Because you're not in here," he admitted, his eyes locking onto yours with a tender intensity.
"Well, I'm here now," you said with a soft smile, feeling your heart swell with love for him.
Michael took your hand and placed a warm kiss on it, his eyes lingering on yours. "I need you near me. You're my inspiration."
You leaned in closer, your foreheads touching. "I'll always be here for you, Michael. Now, show me what you've got so far."
He smiled, his confidence slowly returning. "Okay, but only because you're my muse."
Michael grabbed another crumpled-up paper and unwrapped it, handing it to you. "The only thing I could get right was your eyes and your smile. It's the only thing that was stuck in my mind," he said, his voice tinged with frustration and affection.
