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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♛ 1996 Paris Word Count:4.5k
It was an early morning in Paris, and the first rays of the sun were just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a warm golden light over the city. You were staying in an elegant suite at Disneyland Paris, where the magic of Disney met the charm of the French capital. The suite was luxurious, with plush furnishings and large windows that offered a stunning view of the park and the city beyond.
Michael was already up, moving quietly around the suite so as not to wake you. He was waiting for the nanny to arrive and watch the kids for a few hours, allowing him some rare quiet time before the whirlwind of his tour began. You lay in bed, sound asleep, the last few days having been long but fulfilling. The joy of being with your husband and children made every moment precious.
Michael wandered over to the large window that opened onto the balcony, drawn by the sounds of the city waking up. As he looked out, he saw a sea of fans gathered below, their faces turned upwards in anticipation. They were chanting his name, their voices carrying through the cool morning air. Large posters and signs filled the streets, each one a testament to their devotion. The sight left Michael in awe, and he felt a surge of love and gratitude for his fans, who had always supported him so passionately.
He opened the balcony door just a crack and extended his arm, waving down at the crowd. The reaction was immediate and overwhelming-the screams were loud enough to wake the entire hotel, and some fans were crying with joy at the brief glimpse of their idol.
Michael pulled his arm back in and decided to make the moment more memorable. He grabbed his signature fedora and his camera, a high-end model with a wired microphone attached, to capture the experience. Clad in a plain white T-shirt and blue pajama pants that fluttered in the gentle morning breeze, he stepped out onto the balcony again. The screams grew even louder, echoing off the buildings around him. He chuckled softly, his heart full as he took in the sight of the adoring crowd.
He held up his camera and began to film, capturing the radiant faces of his fans as they waved and held up signs professing their love. He waved back, his cheeks turning red with a shy smile as he heard the chorus of "I love you" and "We love you, Angelface"-a nickname his fans had given him, acknowledging his angelic features and kind heart.
Taking off his fedora, he placed it gently on the table beside him and moved closer to the edge of the balcony, filming every glimpse of his fans. His messy bed hair flowed in the wind, making it even more tousled and endearing.
"Mr. Jackson," the nanny called out as she cracked the door open, her voice soft but clear.
Michael turned around and waved at her, returning her warm smile. "I'm here to take the children out for a bit," she said, her tone cheerful and reassuring.
Michael put the camera down and grabbed his fedora, walking back inside the hotel suite and locking the door behind him. "Okay, they're ready. They're in their room," he said, his voice tender with a hint of fatherly pride.
