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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★ 1986 Los Angeles Word Count:6.8k
It was one in the morning. The soft strains of lullaby music filled the nursery, casting a serene yet melancholic ambiance. Despite the soothing melody, you found yourself restless, the weight of exhaustion pressing heavily on you. The gentle hum of the night was occasionally interrupted by your six-month-old baby's soft whimpers, as you rocked him gently in your arms. His tiny face scrunched in discomfort, his cries cutting through the quiet night like a knife.
Your two-year-old daughter sat on the floor at your feet, her bottle clutched tightly in her small hands. She tugged at the hem of your satin robe with a mix of frustration and longing, her eyes wide and filled with the same restlessness that kept you awake. Her tousled curls framed a face that should have been peacefully asleep by now. You sighed deeply, feeling the sting of tears you fought to hold back. Michael should have been home by now. His late nights at the studio meant that the comforting routine of putting the children to bed together had fallen solely on your shoulders.
Usually, by eight in the evening, the children were sound asleep, giving you a precious moment of peace or a rare opportunity to spend time with Michael. Finding a reliable nanny had been a daunting task, each one you hired seeming more interested in getting close to Michael than in doing their job. Being the wife of a renowned entertainer came with its own set of challenges, and this was just one of them.
"Shh, go to sleep, baby," you whispered softly, your voice trembling. The constant crying and whining from both children overwhelmed your senses. You knew you had to get them to sleep before Michael came home. You had promised him you'd organize his office today, but the task had slipped your mind amid the chaos.
You sat in the rocking chair, the gentle creak blending with the lullaby. Doubts began to creep into your mind. Was motherhood truly meant for you? Were you capable of this? Tears began to blur your vision, and you quickly wiped them away.
Your daughter tugged at your robe again, her wide eyes pleading for attention. "Go lay down, princess," you told her gently. She stood up slowly, her bottle still in her hands, and waddled over to her bed. You watched as she climbed in and pulled the covers over herself. Guilt gnawed at you for not being able to properly tuck her in.
A deep sigh escaped your lips, and you shook your head, trying to blink away the tears that threatened to fall. The sound of the front door chime echoed through the house, signaling Michael's return. You glanced at the clock, your heart sinking with the realization that the children were still awake.
Your daughter threw her bottle to the floor and jumped out of bed, running to the edge of the steps before you could stop her. "No, go lay back down," you called quietly, but it was too late. She was already in Michael's arms, her face lighting up with joy.
Michael's presence filled the room as he carried her back to bed. He kissed your forehead gently before placing your daughter under the covers and singing her a soft, calming song. You watched as your daughter's eyes fluttered closed, a small smile appearing on her face as she hugged her stuffed chimpanzee.
