Michael coming home to reader in living room blasting his songs dancing and singing and she doesn't notice him and then gets soo embarrassed caught screaming his songs xoxox
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ caught red handed • Michael x reader
⤷ ゛Synopsis ˎˊ˗ in which you're caught red handed having your own private concert featuring Michael's songs
𑣲⋆ Contains : fluff, fluff, fluff, Michael wanting to make u his apprentice, caught in the act
A/n: this was such a cute idea I had to start it immediately >⩊<.ᐟ
Sunday always meant cleaning day. You'd open up the blinds, pushing open all the curtains, broom in hand as you swept all throughout the kitchen, somehow breaking out a sweat from doing the simple task as you wiped the beads of sweat from your forehead as the music blasted through the speakers.
Usually, Michael would be home, but this Sunday he headed off to the studio bright and early, babbling something about a new song coming to him that you barely heard in your half-sleep state, your limbs tangled up in the warmth of the sheets as you hummed lightly at the feeling of his lips against your temple. You knew that he wouldn't be back for another few hours; hell, he might not be back until after the sun went down and the stars made themselves known in the sky, or so you thought.
It had only been a few hours since Michael left, and the kitchen and dining room were now so spotless you could almost see a sparkle on the surfaces. Next on your to-do list was the living room.
The music played throughout the house, your broom in your hand as you hummed absentmindedly to the song that played previously, before it faded off, leaving the house in a short moment of silence until the familiar opening of "The Way You Make Me Feel" started playing, the punchy sound of drums and bass echoing out into the space. Your body instinctively moved on its own as you twirled around the coffee table, completely immersed in the song, maybe too immersed that you didn’t hear the sound of the front door clicking shut, or the sound of his loafers clicking against the marble floors.
You were already shouting at the top of your lungs, using the broom as your own personal microphone, pointing at your invisible audience as you sang.
“The way you make me feellll”
Was the only thing Michael heard as he made his way through the halls into the living room, stopping in his tracks as he peered through the opening. The sight of the sun leaking through the windows completely lighting up the space as you pranced around, somehow ending up on the cushions of the couch, bouncing around and unbeknownst to you. Your fake audience had now become a live one, an amused smile playing out on Michael's face as he bobbed his head along to the beat, just waiting for the moment when you'd turn around and see him standing there.
Well, it seemed he didn't have to wait long as you turned around, posing, your eyes closed before you opened them, the realization setting in as you glanced at your position on the couch then to the smile that danced on Michael's face.
“Oh…OH!” You squealed, hopping off the couch, immediately cutting the music that filled the embarrassing moment.
“Just how much of that did you see…” you covered your face, your words muffled by your hands that were pressed to your face.
“Oh, I saw enough, maybe I should make you my apprentice,” he let out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back.
“Oh gosh, Michael, stop.”
"C'mon, do the pose again," he laughed as you buried your face in his chest, shaking it from the pure embarrassment of the moment.
summary - you tell them who you had a crush on before them
warnings - none
a/n - we were ROBBED of Valko so i will start including him anyway. i also picked the ones most likely to make them crash out, so i apologise for Zayne not making anyone crash out
XAVIER
Xavier's day was going well. Peaceful, calm, missionless. The way he liked it; just getting to relax with you. Your head on his thighs, his fingers in your hair, the two of you encased in your own bubble of intimacy.
That was until a comment that Jeremiah had made in passing a few days earlier crossed his mind again. He had been wanting to ask you about it, but it kept slipping his mind.
"Love," his voice came out soft, gentle, as if he didn't want to disturb the cozy atmosphere you had both created.
"Hmm?" You responded, eyes closed in bliss as his fingers threaded through your hair.
"Before we started dating, was there anyone else you loved?" He asked quietly, sounding more vulnerable and anxious than you'd ever heard him.
"No," you admitted, to his relief, only for you to - unwisely - add, "I did have a massive crush on Rafayel though. Why did you ask?"
The lights in your building went out.
"Xavier?!" You called, feeling around for him when his thighs disappeared from under your head. The lights returned a few seconds later, but your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen.
The next moment, the lights returned and the TV switched on to reveal breaking news...a power outage at Rafayel's latest exhibition caused the artist to get stuck in the elevator, pending assistance.
Your jaw dropped.
Xavier walked out of the kitchen with a bottle of water in his hand, opening it absently as if he hadn't just trapped the Lemurian in an elevator. You stared at him, waiting for the acknowledgement of what he had done, but he just sat down.
"Xavier?"
"Yes?"
"Did you trap Rafayel in an elevator?" You bit back laughter.
"I don't know what you mean," he finally looked up, his angel face shifting into place so he looked completely oblivious, like he did nothing wrong.
But his puppy eyes got bigger.
"Never mind, I must be thinking of a dream I-"
You didn't get to finish before his lips were on yours, and you were pushed onto your back on the couch with your boyfriend hovering above you. He kissed you with an urgency you rarely saw in him, highlighting his jealousy as he gripped your hips and pressed himself against you.
"Xav-" You started when he pulled back.
He kissed you again and again, nuzzling into your neck innocently when you were breathless and slightly lightheaded.
You didn't mention Rafayel again after that.
VALKO
Cuddling with Valko was your favourite thing to do. He was warm, incredibly warm, and the most comfortable pillow you had ever had. More than that, he liked to nuzzle you occasionally and even his little affectionate bites sent warmth washing over you.
So naturally, on your off day, you were cuddled up to your big werewolf boyfriend. An added feature today was his fluffy tail brushing up and down your thigh, making you giggle.
"Valko, stop that!" You laughed, trying to catch it.
He grinned deviously, "Stop what?"
He tickled you more. You laughed harder.
And then he stopped, rolling onto his back and placing you on top of him, "You knew others before me." You hated how quickly he could change the subject. "You didn't like any of them the way you like me?"
You stiffened. Then tried to pull away, "Uh...no?"
He growled and yanked you back down, amber eyes meeting yours, "Was it the annoying purple-haired artist?"
You laughed, then shook your head, "No."
"The quiet Hunter?"
"No."
"The doctor?"
"No," your face flushed. "Are you sure you want to know?"
"Mhmm," he tightened his arms around you. "Come on, tell me, little lamb." He buried his face in the crook of your neck.
"Sylus."
His reaction was immediate. He stiffened, then growled - a low, possessive sound that sent tingles down your spine. He buried his face in your neck again, this time to nuzzle against your skin.
You knew what he was doing. Scenting you.
"Val-"
"You don't enter that N109 Zone without me again," he murmured as he pressed against you harder, smothering you in his scent.
"But-"
"You call, I come," he stated simply, biting your ear with affection that also bordered on possession. Then he bit your cheek.
Your face burned, a smile forming on your lips at his words, "Okay."
"He smells disgusting," he mumbled into your skin.
You laughed, trailing your fingers through his hair again, "Is that it? You don't like him because he smells bad?"
"I don't like him because he had you for longer than I do," he grumbled into your shoulder, and you could feel his pout.
Your expression softened and you pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, earning an affectionate nuzzle in return and a tighter grip on you.
You weren't at all surprised to learn the next day that Sylus's brand new weapons cache had been destroyed, with the perpetrator only leaving claw marks behind.
RAFAYEL
Technically, you were on duty. Accompanying Rafayel to another exhibition, staying by his side to ward off unwanted guests...the usual. But Rafayel, being clingy, turned it into a date instead and looped his arm around your waist, dragging you around with him.
At one stage, he got bored.
"Talk to me, cutie," he pleaded, spinning you around in his arms. "Engage me so that boring couple over there doesn't come speak to me again."
"Rafayel!" You swatted his arm lightly, holding back laughter.
"I'm already tired of this exhibition, can we go?" He pouted.
"No!" You finally laughed, earning a triumphant grin from your childishly playful boyfriend.
"But I'm so booooored!" He heaved an exaggerated sigh, then his grin suddenly widened. "I know, I'll ask you an interesting question and you have to answer honestly."
"Oh no-"
"Who did you have a crush on before me?" He wiggled his eyebrows teasingly, adding to the silliness of his antics and his question.
Your eyes went wide, and immediately you looked around for an escape, opening your mouth like a gaping fish.
"Come on, cutie, it can't be that bad," he chuckled. "Who was it?"
"...Caleb," you answered hesitantly, then winced and closed your eyes as if bracing for impact.
Rafayel's eye twitched. Then he laughed, but it was the kind of laugh that was high-pitched, awkward and clearly uncomfortable but made in an effort to keep his cool.
"Raf-"
"I'm fine, it's fine!" He cut you off over-enthusiastically, his smile becoming almost mad. "That's the Colonel, right? The one who's too busy with the Fleet to give you any attention, unlike your super handsome, super loyal boyfriend?" He emphasised 'handsome' and 'loyal'.
"Yes, that's the one," was all you could think of to say, amused and concerned. "But Rafayel-"
He chose that moment to engage in conversation with the same "boring" couple from before, faking so much interest and enthusiasm that it was obvious he was upset about this newly-revealed information.
The very next day, Caleb showed up to visit - very bad timing - and ended up being almost drowned in your bathtub before you got home to stop the furious Lemurian.
"Rafayel!"
"He started it!"
"What did he do?!"
"...Exist."
SYLUS
Sylus didn't get jealous in an obvious way. He'd mask it with a calm smile, but his actions after he felt threatened by someone else become very clingy and very possessive. He'd latch onto you and not let go for an entire afternoon, until he's satisfied.
Today was a prime example.
You were just trying to do enjoy a day off from missions. lounging on Sylus's couch while destroying the twins in a video game. The man himself was going to return in a few minutes, having needed to leave to take care of an issue.
"So, be honest," Kieran finally spoke after another game ended with you victorious. "Since the boss isn't here, tell us who you had a crush on before him."
You almost fell off the couch, "Absolutely not! Mephisto hears everything!" The twins cackled, but pestered you until you finally gave in and revealed the answer, "Okay, fine. It was Xavier."
The air shifted.
"I had a feeling," Sylus's deep voice followed, making you stiffen where you sat.
"Oh, you-!" You tossed your controller at the twins, who just laughed and quickly exited the room, leaving you alone with your surprisingly amused boyfriend.
"It was a long time ago," you started, laughing sheepishly. "Way before I met you-"
Sylus walked over to you slowly, his heavy footsteps the only sound in the room for a few seconds. He stopped in front of the couch, leaned down until his face was inches from yours, and grinned in that smug, infuriating manner that made you want to throttle him.
"I know," his crimson eyes gleamed with amusement, but because you knew him so well you could spot the slight jealously lingering behind his confident facade. "I won't judge you for your poor taste, sweetie. It's greatly improved."
Your jaw dropped.
He didn't show it, but when you next went on a mission with Xavier, you spotted a very familiar crow every few minutes not-so-subtly stalking you and your partner. When you confronted him about it, he pretended to have no clue and gaslit you into thinking it was a random bird.
And then Xavier's apartment was ransacked.
The glare you shot Sylus when you visited him later was enough to make any man wither, but your boyfriend just smiled languidly and leaned back in his chair.
"Sweetie, why do you look so mad?"
CALEB
You were in the process of rebuilding your relationship with Caleb. Day by day it became clear that he wasn't completely the man he used to be, something had changed, but you still loved him more than anything. Enough to try and figure out what had brought this change. To do this, you asked for the help of someone you'd met shortly before Caleb's dramatic return.
But Caleb was always smarter than you gave him credit for, and he realised quickly that you've been spending more time with someone else, even if it wasn't romantic in the slightest.
"Who's your new friend, pipsqueak?" Your Colonel asked you one evening as you both settled down for dinner. Which he'd spent the entire evening making, just before you returned home.
"Hmm?" You looked up at him. "Oh, just someone I met before you came back. He's just a friend, don't worry."
Caleb's eyes darkened at the mention of the person being a man, "What's his name?"
You stiffened, but ultimately knew he wouldn't give up, "...Valko."
"The EonCore Tech chairman?" Caleb raised an eyebrow, amusement returning to his eyes. "So, you're making friends in high places, huh?"
Your face flushed, "No!"
"Oh I see," the Colonel leaned back in his chair, his eyes glinting mischievously - as jealous as he was, he loved teasing you. "An ex-boyfriend?"
You spat out what you had been drinking to cool yourself down, "Absolutely not!"
Caleb laughed, genuinely laughed, at your flustered reaction, "But you did have a crush on him before? I know you, pipsqueak. You can't hide it...not from me."
"I...okay, maybe," you spluttered, cheeks burning. "But it was before you came back! I didn't even know you were-"
He cut you off by trailing his thumb along your jawline, "Relax, I'm not mad. I get it."
He did not get it.
The next day, you found out Caleb had launched an official investigation into EonCore Tech, for what reason you had no idea. You didn't know how he even got the warrants and necessary paperwork so quickly, but you didn't want to ask.
"This guy came out of nowhere," was his excuse when you asked him about it. "I'm just looking out for you, pipsqueak."
ZAYNE
Zayne rarely got jealous. As the most level-headed man you knew, he never outwardly showed when he felt threatened by another man. He simply looked at them like they bore him, until you were done with that interaction.
That is, until he found out who you liked before him.
He never intended to ask, but a comment made in passing by Yvonne, one of the nurses you had made friends with, made him start thinking about it, and he decided the best way to find out was to ask you directly.
So when you visited him for lunch, and settled comfortably into the seat across from his at his desk, he looked up at you and dropped the bomb. Straight.
"One of the nurses mentioned something interesting today," he started, studying you intensely. "You used to like Greyson." He wasn't asking or confirming, he was stating a fact.
"Ummm...no?" You tried lying, not very well. Zayne just raised an eyebrow, and you sighed. "Okay, fine, maybe I thought he was cute-"
"(Name)," Zayne spoke sternly, leaning forward.
"Fine, I liked him okay!" Your face flushed. "But it was only because I thought you would never see me as anything more than a friend..."
Another eyebrow raise.
"Zayne, stop that!" You hid your face in your hands. Peeking between your fingers when he just chuckled.
"It doesn't bother me," he spoke after a minute. "In fact, I think I might have approved...had that been what you wanted, of course." You didn't miss the subtle change in his tone, which gave him away. Anyone else might have, but not you.
You were about to respond when your watch went off, signaling a Wanderer nearby. You offered Zayne an apologetic look, kissed his cheek, and then rushed out of the hospital.
"Greyson," the doctor calmly called his assistant in.
Then proceeded to list duties he expected Greyson to fulfill by the end of the day, some of which were nearly impossible to do. When you returned to the hospital after dealing with the Wanderer, you were met with a panicked Greyson rushing around, practically sweating, and you raised an eyebrow before entering Zayne's office again.
"Why is Greyson so overworked?"
"He fell behind on his duties yesterday," Zayne lied smoothly, not looking up from his screen.
He didn't say any more on the matter, but at your apartment, as you were drifting off to sleep in his arms, you heard him mumble, "Now he'll be too busy to see you at all."
hi! recently I've been yearning sooo bad for a sub!mature era michael, but i barely see any, people forget he still was shy and cute in this era... soo i was thinking... maybe one where matura era michael is feeling kinda self conscious about his body, or just his image in general, since he's getting older and stuff, and reader tries showing him just how perfect he still is by taming him and making him squirm and cry under her. (it would be nice if he was reaaally shy and easily embarrassed in this one, having a hard time letting reader look at him and touch him ♡)
Just Perfect…
✧ a/n: girly i’ve been having the same thought!!!! and just for us two minds think alike, I try to make this one extra special ㅤ♡
The year was 2003, Michael had just celebrated his 45th birthday. After the phenomenal party he had with his fans — with you happily witnessing from afar, letting Michael have his fun, it was time to return home. The two of you sat in the backseat of the car, you were absolutely exhausted, taking a sigh as you relaxed yourself — being glad you two were now alone.
Turning your head towards Michael, he was staring through the dark window — still wearing his shades. You lay your hand on top of his, grabbing his attention towards you “happy birthday baby…” you smiled, Michael squeezing your hand tightly, without a word he smiled — giving your hand a soft kiss, then turning his head towards the window gazing nothing but pitch black again.
You didn’t think much of it, assuming he must’ve been exhausted himself. As you arrive home safely, excited to get a good night's rest, you enter your bedroom sitting down at your vanity — taking off your jewelleries. You then notice Michael just entering the bedroom, with the first thing he does is stare at his own reflection through the full size mirror, you didn’t give it a second thought — but after giving another quick glance, he was really giving himself a good look.
He stared deeply into his face, then down to his figure, letting out a disappointing sigh — looking the same as he would hearing an off-key beat or an uncoordinated dance move. “Is everything alright…?” you questioned, he turned his head smiling — rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… everything's alright, it’s just…” he trailed off, you raised an eyebrow “just… what?”
“I’ts been a while since I saw myself and… I forget how much I've changed that’s all” Michael laughed it off, treating it as a joke. You stood up, walking towards him — started unbuckling his thick belt “well of course… you’ve grown so much baby… especially now that your forty five” you looked at his face, Michael scoffs "don't remind me…” he turns his head to the mirror once again.
“Why not? It’s true" you said sincerely, taking off his belt and tossing it to the side. “I know but… everyday i look at myself i find more things to dislike” Michael exhaled, turning his body towards the mirror again, you stand behind him staring at the reflection of both of you “don’t Michael, you look good” you reassured over his shoulder “you look really good…” you repeated the words slightly quieter — only this time it sounded more genuine and sincere.
Michael sighed heavily, swallowing his breath — shaking his head slightly “I don’t look good…” he muttered under his breath. You weren’t having it, you couldn’t just stand there letting your husband belittle himself like this — you exhaled, then pressing your soft lips on the back of his neck.
You carefully spun him around, making him face you. Cupping his face with both of your hands — you stare deeply into his eyes, his long lashes flutter “never say that again, alright.” you murmured without breaking eye contact. You leaned forward, kissing his lips ever so delicately — having all the time in the world.
You guided Michael to the bed, carefully pushing him to the mattress. Without breaking the kiss, you startled him — your hands rested on his wide chest, you finally parted, sitting up slightly arching your back — you stared at your husband beneath you “you’ve never looked better…” you stated.
Michael smiled, purposely avoiding your gaze, his fingers ran through his hair “but you’ve got to admit I looked a lot better and slimmer back then” he excused. You chewed on your bottom lip “hmm, you were cute… and very, engaging” your finger dragged over his bottom lip at the last line, “but now… you’re more sexier than ever” you smiled biting your lip. Michael threw his head back with a defeated laugh, slapping his palm to his face.
“No…” Michael joked
“No? Why?” you asked smiling back
“Just, no! You’re only saying that”
“Hmm, but it’s true — I've never been so turned on seeing you like this” you explained, while your hips started to buck back and forth.
“N-no… mm — baby what are you…” Michael’s attempt at protest was cut shortly as he felt your hips rocking against his bulge. “Baby… aren’t you tired? Lets just go to bed” Michael suggested, “no. Not until you said to yourself that you are healthy, beautiful and that you're perfect” you announce.
You then unzipped his pants, lowering it with his boxers. Once that's done you unbuttoned his white shirt, revealing his bare chest — as Michael was being stripped by you, as soon as his chest was out open, his face turned completely red, he sighed covering his face with his two hands.
Michael felt a wave of embarrassment washing over him, the thought of you seeing him so overly exposed not just physically but emotionally as well, he just couldn’t bear it. You slowly moved his hands that were covering his flushed face, he didn’t fight it, but you could feel he didn’t want you seeing him like this.
You noticed his eyes were glassy. He was on the verge of tears. “You’re beautiful Michael… you’ve always been. Do you understand? It’s important for me that you do…” you comforted him. After finally removing the last article of clothing — as well as your own, you sat there naked, on top of him — he was in the palm of your hand, still thinking these awful thoughts about himself, and you were about to show him just how wrong he was.
You wrapped your hand around his thick length — started pumping at a slow agonizing pace. Michael let out a high pitch moan, he stiffened quickly — he was so eager he occasionally thrusted his hips up to the palm of your hand, he was begging for more.
“You like that baby?” you asked, Michael’s head pointing forward, watching you as you stroke his cock amazingly “yes… so so much…” he breathed, your hand repeating a rhythmic pace, twisting up and down — squeezing hard, your thumb playing with his tip, playfully sliding into the slit.
Michael widened his mouth letting out a satisfied sigh, his hips twitch — reacting to your every move, he threw his head back, eyes fluttering shut. “ …just like that baby — yeah…” he murmured, you soon pumped faster and faster, repeating the same pattern with more speed, his precum already leaking.
“ …Ah-! Mmh–faster…! Please” he was a mess, absolutely helpless to your touch, “say it… say it first” you ordered, Michael not understanding at first, his brows furrowed “say, that you're healthy, beautiful and perfect” you quickly remind him. Michael couldn’t believe you were actually making him do this, he was in disbelief, only focusing on the pleasure you were giving him.
Disappointed he wasn't doing what he’s told — your hand deliberately stopped, his face shifted immediately “b-baby why’d you stop–please, please keep going… it was so good” Michael pleaded the minute you stop. “I want to hear you say it Michael” you command “if you don't, i’ll let go of my hand. I’ll put on my clothes and go to bed — just like you suggest.” Michael’s eyes flickered nervously “no you wouldn’t…” he dared.
You raised an eyebrow, your hand that was wrapped around him slowly slipping away bit by bit “...no — baby wait–!” Michael begged, he was at your mercy. “I-i’m healthy, beautiful and perfect” he said anxiously, you weren’t convinced “say it like you mean it.” you ordered, Michael threw his head back with a sigh, his eyes shut tight — trying to focus.
“ …I’m healthy, beautiful and I'm perfect” he said to himself, this time you could hear he was more genuine and serious “better” you commented, before he could process anything else, you immediately directed his member to your entrance — sliding the tip through your wet slick folds.
Once you reach the end, letting yourself sit on top of him with his cock inside you, Michael screamed “ah–! Oh baby…” you started to bounce on his length up and down, your mouth gaping open at the maximum pleasure “Michael!... say it again–!” you shouted.
The overwhelming pleasure was hitting Michael like the rough current waves, as you requested him again, he couldn't resist feeling extremely shy, he winced as a reaction, you were struggling to breathe — but you managed to stare at him deeply “don’t make me ask again baby” you demand.
After previously, Michael knew you weren’t kidding around, so he tried his absolute best collecting his breath to even get a sentence out as you rode him. “I’m h-healthy, beau–beautiful… and p-perf–ect” his trembled “say it properly, louder.” you demand again, Michael felt like you were sucking the blood out of him, he squirms — taking a sharp breath before doing a second try.
“ …I’m healthy…I’m beautiful …and I’m perfect!” he yelled loudly, “yes you are–!” you yelled back as his cock hit your spot — resulting you thrusting faster and faster, feeling your orgasm coming near, while you were feeling like you were in heaven — you took a quick glance at Michael to find tears forming at the corner of his eyes, they slowly ran through his face, ending up a small mark on the bedsheets, he was indeed crying beneath you “ …oh mama…ah–!” Michael moaned arching his back bucking his hips up, he formed more tears with every powerful thrust,
You leaned down to give him a long deep kiss that lasted a minute or two, not stopping the thrusts — you smothered your lips everywhere, his mouth, down to his neck — even lower to his chest. You precisely gave him quite the marks once you let go of your lips “...i-im close–” Michael’s voice straggled, you fastened your thrusting, feeling like a million suns, You both scream as you’ve reached your climax.
Michael releases into you as you did as well — your arousal mixing with his, ending up to be a lot more than expected, it dripped out of your entrance, streaking down to your inner thigh. You lay down onto Michael’s chest— catching your breath. After you started breathing normally, you poked out your head — gazing at Michael as he had his eyes shut, his palm resting on his forehead.
You wiped his tears, making him open his eyes, catching your gaze. “ …Thank you for this” Michael thanked, his eyes sparkling to yours “I’ll never grow tired of it” you answered back, You pressed once last kiss to him, one where you both started giggling in middle of it. “I’m tired” you said, resting your head against his chest “me too…” he said back, running his fingers to your hair, slowly letting his eyes shut — the two of you happily drifted off to sleep.
pairing: mature era!boyfriend!michael x singer!reader
summary: reader loves michael’s glasses. he hates them. that’s it. that’s the plot.
word count: 613
author’s note: @roseidol did her big one with this idea, i’m serious. i was foaming at the mouth writing this drabble & it ain’t even dirty.
ps. idk what’s coming next. i no longer make promises. surprise posts only from here on out.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
“No, no, no! Keep them on, please! Please.”
You grabbed Michael’s hands to keep him from pulling his glasses off, tears beginning to form in your eyes from how hard you were laughing. You were in his lap on the couch, kissing him—as you were wont to do—and the lenses kept getting fogged up.
This was the third time you’d had to stop because your laughter had spoiled the mood, but it was just too funny. And while you were in borderline hysterics, Michael was getting pissed, which only made you giggle more.
“Honey, this isn’t fu—”
“I’ll stop. I promise, I’ll stop.” You made a crossing-your-heart motion before putting both arms around his neck.
He groaned.
“Y’know I don’t like wearin’ them.” He made a face, and you took the opportunity to kiss his pouty bottom lip.
“I know, but I love them. Please keep them on? For me?”
You were begging shamelessly because you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. He’d put on that whole “I’m Michael Jackson, I can do what I want” schtick when you’d first gotten together—and still tried to play that card occasionally—but at the end of the day, you had him wrapped around your little finger.
“I don’t want to.”
He threw his head back against the couch like a drama queen—which was good news for you, because all that did was expose his neck even more.
“Please, Michael.” You dropped your voice low, kissing down the column of his throat, and you could feel him swallow beneath your lips.
You were definitely winning this argument.
“Please?” You kissed back up towards his ear, gently tugging the lobe between your teeth. “Please, please, please?”
“...fine.”
You grinned victoriously. “Thank you, pretty boy.”
The pet name was enough to make him cut out the grouchy act, and he let you pull him back into a kiss.
It went well for approximately thirty seconds.
Then his glasses fogged up again, and you burst into a laugh so suddenly you almost bit his tongue.
“I’m not doin’ this.” He growled with frustration, yanking them off his face and tossing them onto the coffee table.
You’d never heard him growl before—that was hot, file that away for later—but right now, you were more concerned about the glasses clattering on the hard surface.
“Hey! If you break those, I’m breaking up with yo—”
He cut you off, taking your face in both hands and pulling you back down to meet his mouth before you could protest.
“Stop. And no more laughin’.” His voice was almost stern, and without the glasses in the way, you could see how dark his eyes had gotten.
Okay, maybe taking them off was just as sexy as having them on.
“Gettin’ me all worked up and then makin’ me stop like it’s funny.” He grumbled so low you thought he might be talking to himself.
“I didn’t think you were actually—”
He didn’t respond with words. He slid his hands down to your waist and lifted you off his lap, laying you back on the couch beside him.
Oh. He was really trying to shut you up.
“—mad.”
“Honey. Please be quiet for five minutes.” He looked as annoyed as he ever got with you—which wasn’t very—but that didn’t seem to discourage him from slipping off the couch and onto his knees on the carpet.
“Sorry! Sorry, I’m sorry.”
You pretended to lock your lips and throw away the key, watching him drag your shorts down your legs and kiss your inner thigh.
“But hey, Michael?”
“Hm?” His mouth was too preoccupied to talk anymore.
“Can you put the glasses back on when you’re done?”
SUMMARY: After years of building your career as an equine veterinarian in New York, you return to Cedar Creek for just one reason… or that’s what you tell yourself.
A call from your best friend, Claire Redfield, is what makes you leave your whole life behind. You tell yourself that all that is temporary but, at the same time, Ben, your boyfriend, finds it an amazing opportunity for you to finally slow down… and settle down to, hopefully, have a family. What isn’t exactly in your plans is having to work with the town’s sheriff, your childhood best friend, and the boy who knew you better than anyone.
Working side by side with the person you both never really got over isn’t for the weak. The more time you and Leon spend together, the harder it becomes to ignore everything you left unsaid… and everything that still lingers between you.
✹ PAIRINGS: Leon Kennedy x Wife!Reader
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Before the car stops, you're already leaning in the passenger seat, as if that'll make you get to your destination faster.
It's been years since you've last driven down that very same road. The last thing you imagined was that, six years later, you'll be making the very same journey again.
As you were getting closer to the ranch, you realised that somehow nothing had changed, but at the same time, it all did.
A wave of familiarity settles in your chest, comforting and painfully bittersweet all at once.
Ben, your boyfriend, kills the engine, though his hands remain tightly wrapped around the steering wheel.
"You know, this is your last chance to run away."
He joked, not even looking at you. However, something deep down told you he wasn't really joking.
You let out a quiet, shy laugh, before pushing the door open. Slinging an oversized backpack higher onto your shoulder, she step out of the car.
"The way you're talking seems like I'm about to go to prison," you tease, your voice dripping with dry sarcasm. "Thought I was just starting a new job."
"Considering how urgently Claire called you, and how fast you said yes..." Ben replies, finally turning to face you. "Kinda sounded like someone was about to die."
The faint smile on his lips disappears almost immediately.
"Call me when you're done. I'll be at your parents'."
You don't answer right away. You keep your expression carefully neutral, just like he does.
Silence settles between you both until you finally give him a small nod. He returns it, and you lean through the open window to press a soft kiss against his lips.
Ben's hand comes up to cradle your jaw, silently asking for a much deeper kiss but to his surprise, and your very own, you pull away almost instantly.
You need to breathe.
"Wow," Ben's tone sharpens. "Seems like now you have a hard time showing your boyfriend you love him," his eyes narrow. "Is there a problem?"
"No. Of course not."
The words come out way too quickly, scrambling to cover the mistake you knew you'd just made.
"I'm just... nervous. You know: the new job, meeting everyone again after years just chatting..." you force a smile. "These things happen when you leave your whole life behind and decide to start over again... once again."
"Did you leave me behind too?"
You silently count to ten.
The last thing you wanted was to start an argument. Specially, not standing at the entrance of the one and only Redfield Ranch, the place that was like home for you during many years.
"I'll call you when I'm done, okay?"
That's all you say.
You don't even bother looking back to see whether Ben was still watching you. You try not to think about that and quicken your pace, letting yourself soak in the spirit of the ranch you'd missed way more than you'd ever dared to admit during your years in New York.
The scent of dry grass and sun-warmed wood. The heat of the afternoon sun against your skin. The stables in the distance, looking way better than your remembered...
You're so lost in your own world that you don't stop until you see Claire who, honestly... looked as if she was someone else.
There's no sign of her worn-out jeans, boots, or those cropped t-shirts of hers. Instead, she looks quite professional, clearly trying to be someone she really isn't. Instead, she's wearing a crisp white button-down neatly tucked into tailored trousers that fit her perfectly, paired, somehow, with spotless white Converse.
Even her hair's neatly tied back instead of being its usual mess.
Is running the ranch by herself now that Chris was Cedar Creek's mayor really affecting her that much?
The younger Redfield lifts a hand to catch your attention, still pretty distracted that barely even notice.
"Hey, you, in here!"
Hearing your name, you hurry the last few steps between you only for Claire to wrap you in a hug the moment you were about to say hi.
"Took you long enough," the redhead mumbles without letting you go. "I get that coming back's a bit of a shock and everything... but really? It's not like you haven't seen the ranch in pictures or during our video calls."
"I'm coming from New York," you laugh. "Things are... just a little different there compared to Cedar Creek."
You glance around once again.
"I guess I'm just excited to be back home after a long time."
Claire pulls back just enough to look at your face, though she still refuses to let you go.
"You look good."
You raise an eyebrow.
"Is that supposed to be a compliment or a warning?"
"A little more of a warning, to be honest," Claire admitts without hesitation. "You sure you're okay? Did something happen on the trip? You look... I wouldn't say pale, but..."
You shake your head immediately.
It wasn't what'd happened during the trip. Actually, it's everything that'd happened before it, and everything that'd been happening for way longer than you dared to admit.
All the thoughts that couldn't escape from your head.
The endless cycle you've spent nearly two years trying, and definitely failing, to break.
"I'm tired, it's just that. It was a long trip," you simply said. "Ben thought we'd save money coming by car, so we barely slept."
The moment Claire hears Ben's name and saw how your expression shifts, she quietly takes a couple of steps backward.
Her gaze drifts toward the car, still parked outside the ranch, and toward the man she recognizes from every picture you've posted online.
"Are you in a hurry?" Claire asks. You frown and shake your head, asking her why. "Your boyfriend's still sitting there."
She points to the car.
"Oh..." you look over your shoulder. "He's probably just trying to find my parents' bar on Google Maps. He's never been here before, and with the pride he has, I'm sure he'd rather get lost than ask one of some locals for directions."
Claire gives Ben a polite nod, who doesn't even bother returning it.
Trying not to let you notice the irritation she's feeling and that flashes across her face, Claire gently takes your hand and starts leading you inside the ranch.
"Come on. I'll give you the tour before we both lose our minds."
"I literally just got here, Claire. Don't you think we should—"
"Exactly," Claire cuts in. "I desperately need to vent to someone after spending my entire day buried in paperwork. If someone'd told me I'd end up running this ranch full-time just because I had the brilliant idea of convincing Chris to take part in the elections..." she groans dramatically. "I should've sold my part to Chris years ago, I'm telling you."
Claire keeps talking about how much her life's changed... even though it'd only been a month while you walk side by side, her talking nonstop while you just listen to everything:
"That's the storage barn," Claire points toward a large building without slowing down. "We built it not long after you left because Chris decided expanding the stables was a fantastic idea," she gestures to her right. "And, over there, is living hell: my office," she sighs. "Don't dare going unless you're ready to listen to me venting for hours. Jill usually leaves the second she hears me start complaining."
"I'll take notes on that," you smile. "No talking to Claire during office hours."
Claire arches an eyebrow.
"What? You don't want me talking to you after work either?"
"Depends," she shrugs. "You have no idea how miserable I've been. I've cried more and slept way less this past month than I did during my entire time at college."
You round the corner near the main house, which barely looks like one anymore.
Claire gradually slows her pace and stops, you matching her steps until you're both standing on the front porch.
"I'm sorry."
Claire speaks so suddenly that you blink in surprise.
"Oh? Why is that so?"
"I mean... I'm terribly sorry for calling you like it was some kind of life-or-death emergency. I mean..." Claire sighs. "Technically, it kinda is, but still..."
You shrug, trying to brush it off even you know quite well how serious this topic is to your friend.
"Don't worry about it, really," you smile reassuringly. "Besides, I already told you: Ben and I'd already been thinking about changing our lives a bit, and..." another small shrug. "You know me. I believe in fate and all that stuff you love making fun of."
"Changing your lives a bit, huh?" Claire arches an eyebrow.
"Yeah. You know... Leaving the chaos of New York behind and finally being able to breathe again, as stupid as it sounds"
"Even if that means giving up a very well-paid job as an equine veterinary specialist to become a two-for-one trainer and vet in the middle of nowhere?" Claire snorts. "Not to mention the absolutely terrible salary."
You chuckle under your breath and nod.
"The last few years made me realize I'd rather have peace of mind than money."
Claire lets out a quiet laugh.
"So... Guess you're going back to the bar too, right?" she asks.
"Yeah," your voice softens. "My parents could use a little help from me," she hesitated. "And, honestly..." your shrug once again, "it feels, somehow, comforting, like I'm stepping back into my comfort zone, specially after..."
Your lower your gaze, starting to twist your fingers almost automatically, nervously.
The words stay still in your throat.
"The point is I'm happy to be back," you keep talking, a bit more shyly and ashamed of admitting that out loud. "I'm pretty happy to have this... lifestyle, or whatever you want to call it, again."
Claire smirks.
For a few seconds, you have the feeling your friend wants to say something else... but, thankfully, she didn't.
Instead, Claire simply nods and leads you toward the wooden bench on the porch. You sit down while Claire leans against one of the columns, folding her arms.
"Okay. So... here's the thing."
She pauses and takes a deep breath, which makes your pay even more attention.
"We're running out of money."
Another pause, this one even more uncomfortable.
"It's not just that the budget's tight," Claire lets out a sarcastic laugh. "The thing is that, if I screw up again with anything, I'll probably have to declare bankruptcy and sell the ranch for a dollar."
You stand up immediately, moving to lean against the column in front of her.
"I've been thinking about different options of what we can do to make things better," she continues. "I haven't talked to Rowan about any of them yet, but—"
"Wait," you blink. You lean forward, eyes wide open. "Rowan? You mean that Rowan?"
"Come on, don't start. You just came. We're not doing this."
"Claire, if it's that Rowan—"
You insist, making Claire roll her eyes, desperation taking over her.
"Yes, it's that Rowan," she confirms. "Long story short, it was all Barry's idea, but I honestly don't feel like explaining anything else right now. It's being... Well, an interesting experience, to say the least."
You open your mouth to press her a bit more, then think better of it. If you were in her position and instead of Rowan, they were talking about—
"Yeah. Sure. No worries," you simply reply in a whisper, a bit ashamed.
"The point is that we need to focus on whatever we can do to... save the ranch," Claire keeps going, sighing once again. "We need better training and harder routines without putting too much pressure on them. Honeybee and Chestnut have to perform at their absolute best if we want to get something out of this."
"And if it works?"
You already know the answer, but still feel like asking. You competed for years yourself and won way too many competitions. You plan was to keep doing that until you were old enough to stop riding horses, but New York and an internship that could change your life, in the best way possible, ended up catching your attention.
"The prizes will probably help us get back on our feet," Claire shrugged. "You know how this goes way better than me, Vi. I don't even know why you're asking."
"And if it doesn't?" you ask again, quickly and desperate.
"You know that answer too."
Claire gives you a tired smile.
"We lose even more by trying. Taking into account travel expenses, transporting the horses, accommodation... Competing isn't exactly cheap, and we're not exactly comfortable with money right now... but I think the risk is worth it."
"Everything'll work out," it's all you can say, offering her a small smile.
"You always say that," Claire shakes her head. "I hate how optimistic you are."
"I know," you smile a little wider. "But somebody has to be."
The confidence in your voice does absolutely nothing to hide the knot of anxiety still twisting in your stomach.
"I get why you're scared," you continue talking. "I know that not being sure of something and what'll happen is terrifying. But you know what? Things always find a way of working themselves out."
Claire sighs.
"We're lucky Leon's helping us."
The second those words leave her mouth, and the moment she watches every trace of color drain from your face, she knows she'd made a mistake.
Claire really fucked up.
"What Leon are you talking about?" your ask, too quickly and quite in shock.
"Kennedy. Come on: what other Leon could it be?"
She's right, of course. Who else could it be? It's not that many people were named Leon. Specially, not in Cedar Creek.
You nod slowly, mentally cursing yourself for asking such a stupid question.
The anxiety that's been simmering in your stomach way before you arrived at the ranch suddenly becomes almost unbearable. You even feel the need to throw up, having to take a few deep breaths to not let yourself get worse.
"Right..."
You force a weak smile that makes Claire's expression shift.
"Look..." she begans talking carefully, rubbing the back of her neck. "I know you two have history. And, whatever happened... I still don't really know why the two of you suddenly stopped speaking."
"Stopped speaking?" your repeat, unable to keep the edge out of your voice. "Listen, if it'd been that simple—"
"I get it, okay? That's what I mean..." Claire sighs. "Or maybe I don't, but you're adults who I know can handle this whole situation of working together no matter how close you were."
She looks quite uncomfortable, which makes you quite uncomfortable as well.
"Anyway," Claire keeps talking, snapping you out of your thoughts. "If you're okay with it, you'll handle the morning training sessions. Leon has most of his sheriff duties during mornings, and since you'll be helping at your parents' bar, probably your afternoons will be busier, while his afternoons are a lot more flexible," she looks at you. "I mean, if you're okay with it, I made that whole schedule without even talking to you both before."
You give a small nod. You can't seem to find your voice, but your body language spoke for yourself.
Claire notices, of course.
"You okay?" she asks once again.
All you can do is nod. Claire doesn't push, even she knows you're lying. All she does is stepping away from the column and wrap her arms around you again. This time you barely return it, feeling even a bit uncomfortable.
"I'll leave you so you can have time for yourself and wander around here," Claire says. "I have to find Rowan. I want to talk to her about the fundraising festival I've been thinking about."
You manage to show her faint smile.
"Good luck with that. And with her."
The younger Redfield nods. Before heading inside, she takes a couple of steps back.
"I'm really glad you're here," she says to you. "And... I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Leon. I definitely should've."
The nervous knot in your stomach climbs straight to your chest.
"Yeah. Me too," is all you manage to say.
Claire nods once again before disappearing inside the house, closing the door behind her.
Left alone, you find yourself drowning in a thousand intrusive thoughts, not being quite sure of what to do next until you remember the reason why you left your whole life behind.
The horses.
Helping Claire save the ranch.
Making sure neither she nor Chris lost the last piece of their family's legacy.
You head toward the stables without even thinking, though your heartbeat pushes your feet a little faster than you'd have liked. Every few seconds, your eyes dart around, expecting to run into someone.
Leon.
You stop in front of the stable doors, closed for some reason you can't quite understand. Without giving it a second thought, you brace one shoulder against one of them and push.
The heavy wooden door wings open with more ease than you remembered from your teenage years, when you spent hours and hours there doing absolutely everything you could.
The moment you step inside, the scent of fresh hay, damp earth, and wood shavings rushes over you and, with it, come all the memories you'd forgotten you still carried with you.
The amount of afternoons spent laughing while trying to brush a stubborn mare that insisted on wandering away every five seconds.
The little pony Chris adopted shortly after Sebastian, his son, was born, and how they thought it'd be a great idea to put an absurdly oversized pair of fake sunglasses on him.
The picture you took of Chris and Leon standing proudly beside him, and how Claire then insisted that you and Leon better had a photo taken too even all you could do was scolding them for laughing at the poor animal.
You remember how you felt when Leon swept you off your feet, carrying you in bridal style as if you'd just gotten married, and how you'd felt an insane amount of butterflies fluttering inside your stomach that now are pure mixed feelings that raise your anxiety.
You force yourself to walk farther into the stable, putting all those memories aside before they could become something more than just another knife twisting in your chest.
A soft whinny pulled her attention to the right.
A chestnut horse, way too calm, stood inside one of the stalls, ears flicking curiously as he lifted his head.
"Well, look who we have in here..." you murmur, walking over slowly, your smile growing bigger. "Long time no see, Chestnut."
The horse bobs his head, as if he's recognizing an old friend, before stretching his neck toward you. You rest your forearms against the stall door and gently stroke his muzzle.
"You have no idea how happy I'm to see you," you smile. "Great thing the two of us already know each other," you scratch beneath his jaw, which your remembered the horse loves. "You're going to make my job a whole lot easier. Bet Ada's too."
Chestnut answers with a loud snort, and you choose to take that as an agreement.
You step away from him and slowly scan the stable again, looking for the other horse you know almost as well as you know yourself.
"Where are you hiding, Honeybee?" you mutter, looking for Jill's mare.
"Guess you're still as impatient as ever."
That voice makes you freeze.
"We're going to have to work on that, sweetheart."
You don't need to turn around to know who it was but still, you do.
Leon stands at the opposite end of the stable, near the entrance, sunlight pouring in behind him. He has one hand resting against the doorframe, while the other gently strokes Honeybee's neck as she nudges him insistently with her muzzle, almost as if trying to tell him an intruder's arrived.
That, of course, catches Leon's attention.
He looks up and, after a long time, he feels a relief he can't quite explain.
A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
"Pure instinct," you think while doing exactly the same as him: smiling as you haven't done in a long, long time.
The second you realize you're doing that, you immediately lower your head, heat rising to your cheeks.
Neither of you move or speak until the sheriff clears his throat, making you look back up immediately, your eyes finding each other again.
"Hi," he says.
"Hey..."
Silence settles between you once again, though this time it feels way much heavier.
Leon lets out a sigh and looks away for a moment, trying to come up with something to say to his best friend.
"Former best friend", he forces to remind himself, considering how things ended between you, all because of him.
"It's been a while," it's all Kennedy can say.
Your lips part before you hesitate. What are you even supposed to say to that?
You know Leon, really know him, and you're sure that there isn't an ounce of sarcasm hidden in his words.
"Yeah..." you let out an awkward laugh. "I could say the same thing. How long's it been now? Six years?"
Leon laughs quietly, that bittersweet feeling taking over him.
He rubs the back of his neck, trying not to get more nervous and letting silence settle between you once again. He doesn't know what else he can say to you, so he focuses on leading Honeybee into her stall, stealing occasional glances toward you, still standing right beside Chestnut.
Before he can even stop it from coming, the memory crashes into him.
His graduation from the police academy. That ridiculously long ceremony in where he was forced to shake more hands in a single afternoon than he had in the rest of his life combined.
He remembered watching you laughing with Claire, while Chris excitedly told him you'd been accepted into an internship at one of New York's best equine veterinary clinics.
The same application Leon'd helped you fill out, and the same internship that'd take you away in just a couple of weeks. Funny enough, the same weeks he thought about asking you to go on vacation and, finally, confess his feelings to you.
Leon swallows hard, dragging himself back to the present.
"How've you been?" is all he says.
You take your time to answer, carefully deciding what you should tell him and what you shouldn't.
"I've been... Good, I guess. Bussy," you smile faintly. "New York is..." she searched for the right word. "Stressful. Between you and I... it's quite overrated."
Leon smiles.
"You've always been a Cedar Creek girl. I guess that, no matter how far you go, you always find a way back home."
"And what about you?" you ask quickly, refusing to dwell on his words.
"Busy as well," he shrugs. "If you'd told me two years ago I'd leave RPD to become a full-time sheriff here... Not to mention that now, apparently, I'm spending half my life around horses again, just like when we were teens," he adds, his smile widening. "Hopefully, this time it'll be a little less chaotic considering we're only training them."
That earns a laugh from you. A real one.
Leon rests his arms on a bale of hay before hoisting himself up to sit on top of it.
Without even thinking, he holds out a hand toward you, the exact same gesture he's made countless times when you were teenagers.
You simply shake her head, politely refusing. Leon's hand lingeres in the air for the briefest moment before he quietly lets it fall.
"I've heard things have been going great for you," he says, leaning forward with his hands clasped loosely between his knees.
Your expression changes instantly, which doesn't surprise Leon.
Of course, Leon knows what your life's been, just as you know exactly how his has been after you went your separate ways.
"Sure..." he says after not getting a reply. A brief silence follows before he dares to speak again. "So..." he rubs the back of his neck. "I've been wondering something ever since Claire told me you were coming back."
Leon's eyes find yours, and you swear you feel the same way as when you were 16 and deep down for him.
"What makes someone like you leave a place like this, get the opportunity of her life at one of the best veterinary clinics in New York, and then choose to come back to a shitty town that barely has any future for young people like us?"
Once again, you know there isn't a trace of malice behind his question, just mere concern. But, deep down, there's something inside you that makes you think otherwise.
A lump forms in your throat while you force yourself to stop thinking bad about Leon.
You know all too well that, no matter the way your story ended, Leon still cares about you, and there's no bad blood between you.
"Claire called," you answer calmly, not letting your feelings take over your. "It felt a good opportunity to come back," you offer a small smile. "I get to help her, Chris, and also my parents. You know I'll always be one call away from the people who need me."
"I know that first hand, yeah."
"I also missed my parents," you add quickly, refusing to let another heavy silence settle between you. "And Ben wanted us to slow our lives down a little, so we thought it'd be nice to move somewhere quieter," you force a smile after saying that. "So... I guess stars just aligned."
You know Leon well enough to notice the subtle shift in his expression the moment you mentioned her boyfriend. It's that subtle that most people never would've caught it, but you do.
You let out a sigh, not sure whether that makes you uncomfortable or disappointed.
Leon, of course, knows who Ben is, all thanks to your social media. For the past year and a half, he's watched your photos appear every few weeks, all of them of perfect dates you seemed to brag about in perfectly written captions.
Yet, somehow, he couldn't quite explain why your smile seemed a little dimmer every time you posted a new photo. And not to mention the light in your eyes... The dark circles beneath them...
He shouldn't have noticed anything, but it was your light fading away as time went by.
Leon forces himself to stop overthinking about a relationship that isn't his and he had no idea about. He steps down from the hay bale and goes straight to Honeybee, who immediately nudges his arm the moment he reaches her.
Leon smiles faintly and begins stroking her forehead.
You notice the tension settling in his jaw and shoulders, as well as how, so out of nowhere, he seems incapable of looking at you again.
"I should get going," you say, a bit overwhelmed, plastering on a smile. "I still have to get familiar with everything again. And I should probably go over to Claire's to talk about the contract," she added.
Excuses. Every single one of them are simply stupid excuses so that you can get out of there as soon as possible, and Leon knows it.
"Yeah," he simply says, looking up at you immediately. "Of course. No worries."
He clears his throat, cursing himself for not knowing how to keep the conversation alive.
When you realize his attention's drifted back to the mere, you turn back toward the doors before you dare to open your mouth and say something you don't want to.
"Y/N?"
You just turn your head enough to look back at him over your shoulder.
"I'm really glad you're back home."
Leon's voice's quiet and honest, which makes everything feel way worse.
"I've missed having you around."
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! Feedback, as well as comments and/or reblogs, are very much appreciated! My inbox is also open in case you want to make a request or talk to me! 💖
Reader being overwhelmed by the paparazzi asking her many questions of her engagement with Michael and he comes to protect her telling them to back off? Love your fics btw, Angel keep up the good work🫶🏽💟
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ Paparazzi • Michael x reader
⤷ ゛Synopsis ˎˊ˗ After announcing your engagement, the paparazzi is eager to know about it.
𑣲⋆ Contains : Michael getting mad at the paparazzi
( ˶°ㅁ°) !!
It was overwhelming, and you hadn't even gotten out of the car yet. Michael kept his hand grasped tightly around yours, his thumbs running over your knuckles, easing some of the nervousness that bubbled in your stomach. You felt nauseous, your stomach twisted and turned with each turn of the car. The burst of flashes from the cameras only increased, yet they were blocked by the tint on the window.
At this point, "nervous" wasn't the word, and with the announcement of your engagement, all the cameras and unanswered questions only got worse as they shouted questions that could barely be heard through the thick metal of the doors that kept you sound inside. Maybe announcing your engagement before an award show wasn't the best idea, but when you're engaged to the world's most adored man, the spotlight was bound to be on you.
“Are you all right?” The sound of Michael's voice came through the muffled voices of the paparazzi. The silence in the car now filled with that delicate voice.
“Mhm, just a little nervous, y'know?” Your leg bounced up and down, causing your dress to slide up slightly, exposing the skin of your thigh through the slit of your dress.
The car jerked slightly before stopping at the start of the red carpet. Suddenly your chest felt tighter, like you couldn't breathe. Sure, it may not have been your first time being in the spotlight, but it wasn't like every time suddenly got easier, the bright flashes only getting heavier every time.
“Ready?”
“It's now or never,” you laughed nervously, the feeling of his thumb running over your knuckles stopping at the giant rock that sat on your fingers. Then the sound of the door opening caused your attention to shift, suddenly revealing the loads of paparazzi that waited on each side. The flashes from the cameras and the heavy clicking sound filled your already overwhelmed senses. Michael never let his hand loose; in fact, it only tightened as he helped you out of the car.
It was loud.
Too loud.
People everywhere, yelling to grab your attention. The only things you were trying to focus on were the few cameras that you managed to pose for, your hands still locked with Michael's, making that the only thing that somewhat eased your nerves.
“This way!”
“Over here!” You weren't sure where to look anymore as you gave a small wave.
“How's your engagement with Michael?” There was the question you knew was coming, and from there it was one question after another.
“Can we see the rock?”
“When's the big date?”
“What do your families think of your engagement?”
Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to answer, but your mouth seemed to no longer work. Your voice got caught in your throat as you swallowed thickly.
Michael was quick with it. He knew you better than anyone—how you got when you became overwhelmed, somewhat panicked, gone silent, your hands clammy in the grasp of his own.
"Please everyone, enough with the questions," he yelled, pushing past the crowded pathway, security guards watching closely as you followed close behind, your body hiding behind Michael's large figure as he held you close, but the camera flashes didn't stop and the questions only kept flooding in. One particular guy managed to push his camera in your face, causing you to put your hand up to protect yourself as Michael turned around.
"No, no, you do not get to stick your camera in her face." He was fully turned around now, his hand up as he angrily spoke, his voice rising, cracking that smooth, calm composure he usually held.
Oh, he was pissed, and he'd had enough of the cameras, making his way inside the building with his team trailing close behind.
"Mikey, I'm okay, really," you spoke, letting your hand trail up his arm, rubbing it in an up and down motion.
"You may be okay, but that was not okay back there." His voice was back to the soft, gentle voice you knew.
"Look, it's fine, let's just enjoy the performances and see you win some awards out there." He laughed before pressing a tender kiss to your cheek.
PLS WRITE ONE ITS MICHAEL AND HIS DAIGHTER AND HE SPENDS THE DAY WITH HER AND LEARNS STUFF ABOUT HER THEN SHE ACCIDENTALLY SLIPS UP AND COMES OUT AT LESBIAN PLS THEN TURNS OUT SHES HAD A GF FOR MAYBE 6 MONTHS
Oops
Pairing: Michael Jackson x black!daugher!reader
Summary: You and your dad are out shopping and you accidently let out a secret you weren't quite ready to tell yet
Note: I love all these lgbtq request, being a part of the community myself, it's just nice to see. 😛 (Yall catch the ref at the end 👀) As always, sorry for any fucked up grammar
Q&A link, if you wanna ask me something- HERE
Your dad had been working really hard, like always. And today you decided to force him to come out with you. Of course you couldn't just go out, your dad was Michael Jackson for crying out loud. So your father decided to buy out the mall you wanted to go to, just for a couple hours.
You guys were going around the mall, shopping and playing around. You were telling your dad about stuff he'd been missing out on and some new things you figured out about yourself and your life while he was busy, also giving him the tea (He love to gossip 😛). In one store you found a glove, just like your fathers so you decided to put it on and started acting like him "Hehe, Billie Jean is not my lover" You sang before spinning around and hitting a pose, causing Michael to let out a little giggle "You got some moves, kid" "I learn for the best" You smirked before taking the glove off and placing it back down.
You guys then moved on to the next store, which was a toy store. Yes you were grown, but you are just like your dad. You LOVE toys. You walked into the store and one plush in particular caught your eye. "Oh my gosh" You gasped, walking over to it and grabbing it. it was a pink monkey with hearts all over it. It made you instantly think of your girlfriend. "Oh, my girlfriend would love th-" You froze mid word, you forgot you were even with your dad. One of the people you haven't came out to yet.
You slowly looked over towards your dad, just to see him looking in your direction. But you couldn't see his eyes due to his shades. "Did you say girlfriend?" Michael asked "Um- i..... Yeah" He stayed silent for a second, looking the other way before turning back toward your direction "How long?" From his tone, you thought he was mad. Which scared you a little. "Um.... six months"
Silence.
He then slowly took his shades off and looked up at you "Why have you never told me?" He asked. "I-i didn't know how you would take it" He nodded slowly "Where did you met?" "At a party" "Is she good to you?" "the best" "Then i dont see a problem"
Your eyes lit up
"Really? I-i thought you wouldn't take it well" "I dont care who you date baby, you're my daughter" You smiled "Yeah, i guess so."
"So, do you know what you are. Do you still like boys, or just girls?" He asked "Im a lesbian dad" He nodded slowly "I just dont know why you hide it from me for six months, im your dad sweetie. You can tell me anything" "I know, i was just scared and didn't know how to really bring it up" "Yeah, well at least i know now right?" "Yeah"
"I love you applehead" "I love you too dad"
"Now when do i get to meet this lady of your life" "Okay not to fast dad, let's finish shopping first"
You said, leading you to both let out a string of laughter.
Synopsis: Michael falls for a journalist but she's all about her business, and that doesn't include him. Can he make her give in?
Content: 18+, smut, NO MINORS, mutual pining, descriptive dirty talk, descriptions of female anatomy, needy!Michael, soft-dom Michael, bad era!Michael, era 1988, journalist!reader
Request: @artflooo : Omg… queen, I’m just gonna leave this here and kindly ask for a fic based on this look 🥵🙏🏽 https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTSSbmJMh/
Author's Note: I love writing for this era and will never get tired of it, send me all the requests 😂 also this is sooo filthy so read at your own risk 😝
The room was large and bright with lighting equipment. Rows and rows of chairs and the monotonous hum of camera equipment and its crew bustling about filled the room. Journalists murmured to each other quietly, discussing Michael Jackson’s newest project.
You were seated off to the left side in a small press section. Eyes roaming the room as you tapped your pen on your notepad, legs crossed one over the other. The room smelled of coffee and faint cigarette smoke, and something sickly sweet like hairspray.
Patiently, you waited for your turn to interview Michael. He was in the process of completing his previous one, and then you’d be next. Your eyes wandered over his physique. He was dressed down more than usual today. But in a way that only Michael Jackson could manage to make look polished. A cobalt blue overshirt hung open over a soft white V-neck t-shirt. The bright color made his complexion glow under the studio lights. His sleeves were rolled up just enough to expose the veins in his forearms. Loose black slacks draped cleanly over his long legs, cutting neatly above his signature loafers.
No matter how hard you tried to ignore it, you kept feeling the thrumming heat of his gaze fall on you. He was trying to focus on the interviewer in front of him. He really was. But he couldn’t help the way his wandering eyes kept gravitating in your direction.
“So, Michael,” The interviewer started, leaning in close as if he was about to share a scandalous secret.” “A young woman says to you, “Come over, I’m gonna make love to you,”
Instantly, Michael visibly cringed, shoulders drawing in slightly. He was a bashful man. Then— a look so quick that almost anyone would have missed it. Michael’s eyes flickered over to you, and a faint knowing smile ghosted over his lips. Just as quickly as you saw it, it vanished.
He was about to start his shit. You shifted in your seat, preparing for the show.
In a dead pan tone, Michael responded “Yes, I’m scared”. Immediately, the interviewer was roped in. His eyes lit up as he leaned in even further.
“Really? That’s fascinating. Tell me more—” the interviewer continued to prod at Michael’s answer.
He was such a smug asshole. He knows that isn’t true. And he looked right at you while he said it, because you knew better than anyone in the room just how untrue it was.
Your eyes fell to his fingers that were tapping against idly his knee. A nervous habit you’d observed a hundred times before. Intrusively, an unwanted memory slammed into you.
“Just like that—p-please don’t stop”
Michael’s hand was fisted in your hair, gaze holding yours intensely in the mirror as he stroked into you deep and deliberate, cock stroking your overstimulated walls and making you see stars. A sharp crack of his palm came down on your ass.
A sharp voice startled you from your daydream.
“You’re on in 5, ready?”
“Always” You stood smoothly, shoulders back and radiating unshakeable confidence that had come from years of practice. You made your way to the powder room, praying that it wasn’t obvious you were flustered. Inside, you brushed your hair away from your face before touching up your lip combo, studying your reflection. You took a deep breath. Showtime.
Michael’s amusement was evident from the time you came back in the room. Hips swaying to an invisible rhythm as you made your way to the seat across from him. He stood up, adjusting his collar. He extended his hand outward to you. He didn’t offer a standard, business-like grip. Instead, his large hand closed gently over your fingers. Thumb tracing a slow, agonizing circle over your knuckles before he allowed your fingers to slide away.
He said your name softly, teasing the syllables. It rolled off his tongue like a familiar melody he’d been humming in the dark. His doe eyes were bright, studying you.
“Good to see you again. It’s been a while”
Pulling your hand away, you sat down as if unphased by the soothing gesture. You settled into the seat before replying,
“Mhm, what’s it been? 3 or 4 months?” You pretended not to remember the last time you had crossed paths with the popstar. Truthfully, you remembered the exact date. Michael continued observing you with quiet curiosity.
“Something like that.” He sat back down; eyes fixated on you. He glazed over your features with warm scrutiny. Your eyes, your hair, your lips. Like an art collector confirming every detail of a priceless painting is exactly as he remembered. He lingered on your lips for a moment. A grin made its way across his features as he realized you’d worn it. A specific lip combo you only wore for him. Michael was certain. He’d watched plenty of your interviews, and this specific combo was a rarity for you. However, you always seemed to adorn the look when he encountered you.
The scent of Michael’s cologne enveloped you as you tried to gather your question cards. It was warm and smelled expensive. He waited patiently, seemingly enjoying how you seemed to be fumbling with them, nearly dropping them at one point.
Aw. She’s flustered. Michael thought to himself.
After a final sound check, cameras started rolling. And instantly, you stepped into your persona.
“Michael, it’s good to be here with you today. We’re celebrating the start of the second leg of your Bad world tour for those who don’t know. Congratulations.”
Michael nodded humbly, “Thank you”. His hand rested against his knees, long fingers relaxed. His shirt fell open at the collar, exposing the smooth skin of his chest. You hated that you noticed.
“The album has been doing excellent, five hit singles from one album is an incredible feat. I have to ask. When you’re creating a visual piece for an album like this, do you hear the music first or see the details of the visual?”
There it was. The reason Michael always picked you to do his interviews whenever he did a press run. His face lit up and he began explaining his creative process, talking with his hands and making expressive faces. You tried to ignore the flutter you felt in your tummy as the passion continued to build in his tone.
“Sometimes it’s a sound I’ll hear. Other times it may be a color. Sometimes… it’s a face I can’t stop seeing.” The words settled between you two, crossing an unspoken barrier.
You had been scribbling notes down for the article you planned to write until that last sentence. Recovering quickly like the professional you were, you cleared your throat and moved to the next question. A little too quickly, and unfortunately for you Michael noticed.
“You’ve often said you think of your music videos as short films. How much creative control do you have over the final product?”
Questions about his craftsmanship. That was your angle. While other interviewers focused on salacious, invasive details, you focused on what was important.
Michael pondered the question for a moment before answering.
“Usually, the idea comes to me and immediately I can see it playing out in my head. The music comes to me, and I see it come to life, it’s a gift really.”
Foreplay. That’s what this was for you and Michael.
As the interview continued, Michael became more detailed with his answers. His posture became more relaxed, and the flow of the conversation became a tennis match of sorts. Not competitive. But steady in rhythm. You were picking his brain, and he loved it.
Behind the scenes, a producer leaned over to an executive.
“He never usually gives this much. This girl’s really lucky.”
Michael found his gaze wandering down to your lips as you spoke, flowing effortlessly from question to question. They were lined with a chocolate brown and filled in with a blush-colored gloss. So pretty. And distracting.
“Sometimes,” he said, “the smallest thing changes the whole picture.” His eyes dropped to your lips again. Your cheeks warmed. You hated that your next question came out a fraction softer than you intended.
“That sounds like a lot of control,” you said. “Do you ever get tired of paying attention to everything?”
Michael’s smile turned up slowly.
“No,” he said. “Not when it’s worth looking at.”
He’s doing this on purpose, reading me in front of everyone. you thought.
After your last question, you’d stood to shake Michael’s hand. This time, he pulled you in for a hug by the small of your waist, lips brushing your cheek as a departure greeting. Despite the heat you felt creeping up your neck, you allowed the gesture. Gotta be professional, right?
When it was all over, you packed your things. Quickly. Usually, you were in control of your interviews. No one phased you. And you did not like being out of your element. Your get away was made clean by Michael’s manager pulling him aside as soon as the two of you had finished your polite departure.
Making your way through the rows of chairs and still cramming your things into your purse, you tried to tune out your assistant editor.
“That was amazing. How did you get him to open up to you like that? I know you’ve interviewed him before, but wow.” The editor continued bumbling about the best parts of the interview as you made your way to an empty lounge area.
“Thanks. Did you make sure to get extra candids at the end? I need a cover for the article.” The editor nodded eagerly, chirping about how natural the chemistry between you and Michael had been. Her rambling was interrupted by the door of the lounge opening slowly.
Michael’s eyes had trailed you from the moment the interview ended. He heard his manger talking, but every word went in one ear and out the other. There was no chance he was letting you get away that clean. And that was why he knew exactly where you’d gone in an effort to escape him.
“Hi…” He spoke softly, hoping he wasn’t intruding on your conversation. The editor squeaked in response, literally. She glanced between the two of you, and sensing the change in air in the room, quickly dismissed herself.
The lighting in the room was dim, and it was silent, with the exception of the hum of the press suite which was only a few feet away.
“Why you runnin’ from me?” He teased, stepping closer and working to close the gap between the two of you. “You know I can’t let you get away that easy.”
“I’m not running. Just got a busy day, that’s all.” Your fingers fidgeted at your sides, having nothing to do.
Michael tutted, a smirk gracing his lips. “Don’t tell me you got plans more important than me”
His smugness both irritated you and stirred something in the pool of your stomach. You rolled your eyes, arms crossing over your chest.
“Don’t you have another interviewer to play with? Scared when you get a booty call? Really? You know damn well you’ve been gettin’ panties thrown at you since you were 17.” You were all too aware of the enjoyment Michael got out of toying with journalists. Most were leeches who would latch on to the most salacious detail they could find to make a dollar. And Michael knew it. Honestly, he thought it was funny to troll them.
Michael’s lips shifted to one side, trying and failing to hide a laugh.
“You didn’t like that one, huh?” He stepped closer again, further decreasing the gap. “I had to find some way to keep myself entertained 'til I could get to you. The only reason I agree to do these things is so I have an excuse to see you. You’re hard to get a hold of, girl.”
Another step.
“What do I gotta do? Drop another album for you to agree to see me?” His eyes stayed on you, tender and containing something else you couldn’t pinpoint. Maybe yearning. Maybe lust.
Michael was no fool. You were about your business. Initially, you despised interviewing him. But no journalist in their right mind would ever turn down the opportunity to interview Michael Jackson. Besides that, Michael genuinely enjoyed your interviewing style. Before he had ever met you, he’d watched a plethora of your interviews. You were truly a credible journalist. A rarity in your field. And this— was why you were his top pick whenever he decided to give the press the time of day.
“I haven’t seen you since that awards show out in Vegas. And you barely gave me the time of day.”
“Michael, you said you wouldn’t do this.” Bottom lip caught between your teeth, you continued to keep your arms crossed tightly. “Last press run was just that. Last press run.”
Something dark flickered in Michael’s eyes that resembled disappointment.
“Don’t tell me that baby, you quittin’ me already?” He was right in front of you now. One hand rose to rest on the wall on the side of your head. “Is there somebody else? You can tell me” He eyes wandered over your features, lingering on your lips before flickering back up to your eyes.
With a pointed finger at his chest, you began your tirade. “I’m not the one traveling the world and disappearing for months at a time, Mr. Fishes. What do you want me to do? Sit around waiting until you call? I have a career and a life too, Michael.”
Michael’s eyebrows rose at your directness, still maintaining closeness. Enough that the sweet scent of your perfume could invade his sense, taking him back to his last encounter with you.
“Hey, I write you. You never write me back. And tour has been non-stop lately...” You rolled your eyes again, this time looking away from his intense stare. Then, softer, “You’re the one who told me you didn’t want anything serious. You basically avoided me for weeks when I asked you to go steady. I thought this was what you wanted. Space.”
That, you couldn’t deny. You had outwardly rejected the idea of anything legitimate with Michael. Mostly due to a desire to protect your career. You worried about what the title of "Michael Jackson’s girlfriend" would do to your credibility, especially amongst your peers. Most of whom were men. Who you definitely didn't want to say you got the best gigs because of your relationship with him. For that reason, you’d refused Michael.
Stubbornly, you held his stare. Refusing to admit, and refusing to secede. God, you were so stubborn. Michael didn’t know if it was just your professional training or a trait you’d honed over the years, but he just couldn’t get you to give in to him. For anything.
“Okay how about this. You’re here. I’m here. Come see me tonight. Spend some time with me. My chef’s making dinner. It’ll be quiet, just us.” His doe eyes searched yours, hope dancing in them. You continued to stare, raising an eyebrow. Still unimpressed. Michael rolled his eyes. Shaking his head at your refusal to submit, even when he was putting his best foot forward. “Please, come see me tonight? I miss you.” The hand next to your head came down to your face, backs of his fingers caressing your cheek. At this, your lips turned upward.
“That’s right papa, talk to me nice” And with that, you slipped out of his grasp, hips sashaying as you exited, a sweet trail of perfume following you.
Michael felt a stir in his pants as he watched you leave. He loved to watch you coming, but damn, he really loved to watch you leave. Michael swallowed thickly, adjusting himself subtly before taking a deep breath.
That was good, right?
That night, Michael changed his outfit three times. He was standing in front of the mirror in a burgundy silk button up he wasn’t sure about. Catching the time on a nearby clock, Michael mumbled a curse under his breath. He ran his hands over the material, and looked in the mirror, fixing his curls one last time. He sprayed the lightest touch of cologne at his throat just as the knock came at the door.
Everything was perfect. His private chef had made your favorite cuisine, and he made sure someone picked up your favorite candles. He was wise not to make a fuss. He knew the more extravagant he went, the more he would inadvertently push you away. So, this was good.
When he opened the door and saw you standing there, his whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. A rare, unguarded smile.
“You came” He breathed, voice soft with relief. “I wasn’t sure you would… after the letters. And with how we left things on tour, I thought maybe you’d change your mind”.
You stepped inside, allowing him to close the door behind you. The suite smelled like garlic and herbs, and something rich and buttery from the chef. A small table by the window was set for two, candles flickering and two glasses of red wine. Your fingers trailed gently over the tablecloth as you noticed what type of candles were lit.
“Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I was gonna come either….” a small smile touched your lips at his thoughtfulness. Cashmere and vanilla candles were one of the small comforts you always tried to bring with you on the road. “Told myself I was only coming to clear the air. Not because you asked.”
There it is. That unrelenting stubbornness. Michael shook his head, laughing to himself at your refusal to soften. His hand hovered near the small of your back as he pulled your chair out for you. “Still glad you’re here”.
Dinner started off easy. The chef had gone all out; seared salmon, roasted vegetables, and a dish of pasta that tasted suspiciously like the one you’d mentioned once in passing. Michael watched you take the first bite, something quietly pleased in his eyes.
“You remembered my favorite pasta too?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I remember the important things” He admitted shyly.
You nodded, deep in thought. You took another bite and then set your fork down.
“Michael, this is nice. The dinner, the suite. All of it. But I meant what I said on tour. I’m not looking to go steady. Not when it could mess with my job. I’m a woman and I’m one of the top earners in my field. I don’t need people saying I only get the good assignments because I’m sleeping with Michael Jackson.”
Michael set his fork down to now. He nodded slowly, eyes not leaving yours. “I know,” he said softly. “I hate that you felt like you had to choose. That’s why I wrote you instead of pushing. I was scared you’d leave, but you did that anyway…” he trailed off, thumb tracing the stem of his wine glass.
You felt your guard lowering for half a second from the guilt. Recovering quickly, you responded,
“Distance was safer. For both of us. I’m not some girl who’s gonna drop everything because you’re looking at me like…”
Michael’s eyes raised to yours, mischief twinkling in them. “Like what?” his tongue trailed his bottom lip lightly. Eyes trailing from your rose petal lips up to your eyes.
“Like that, Michael.” You give him an agitated look, but your lips twitched. “Don’t push it.”
The conversation stayed charged after that. Both of you had relaxed into it, flowing from topic to topic naturally. He asked about the cities you’d done stories in since the first leg of tour ended. You asked him about his new songs from Bad that were added to his setlist for the second leg. Every time his fingers brushed yours reaching for the wine, the air got a little heavier. Every time he licked a drop from his lower lip, your eyes followed.
By the time the plates were mostly cleared, the tension had become a living thing between you two.
Michael leaned forward slightly, lacing his fingers through yours. “I missed this. Missed you. The way you argue with me even when your eyes are telling me something else”.
You met his gaze, allowing him to stroke his thumb over the hand that was currently laced with yours.
“I’m not giving in just because you made my favorite pasta and wore that shirt.”
At this, Michael was genuinely tickled. You hated how your tummy flipped when he tilted his head back and covered his face, erupting into giggles. He stood and came around the table, still laughing. He pulled your chair out and held his hand out to you. Reluctantly, you stood. His hands settled at your waist and drew you in until your bodies were flush against each other.
“Tell me to stop” he murmured. Voice low and raspy. “And I will. But if you don’t, I’m not letting you walk out here tonight without reminding you how good we are together. How good I am for you.”
You opened your mouth, trying to think of something to say to push back. Some type of quip about boundaries and your career. But then, his lips were against yours before words could form. It started slow and deep, almost like he was testing to see if you’d pull away. You didn’t. You kissed back harder, tongue sliding against his.
He walked you backwards into the next room. The backs of your calves made contact with the bed, and that’s when your palms raised to his chest, fingers curling in the silky marerial.
“Michael— we shouldn’t. This is what I was afraid—” He kissed you again, swallowing the protest. One of his hands slid under your dress to grip your thigh, thumb brushing it gently.
“Then tell me to stop” He whispered against your mouth. His fingers found the edge of your panties, gently pushing them aside. The pads of his fingers slid through your folds, already slick with your arousal. Your head tipped back with a gasp,
“I—fuck — I’m not giving in to you Michael. This doesn’t mean I’m giving in.” But your hips rolled toward his hand anyway. Michael groaned softly, fingers finding the bundle of nerves between your legs that made your thighs shake.
“There she is,” he cooed, voice warm. He brushed his lips over your cheek near your ear as his fingers continued to toy with the bundle of nerves. “My stubborn girl. Still fighting me even when you’re this soaked.” You tried to glare at him, but it melted into a moan when his fingers began teasing your entrance.
“Michael—I’m serious. My job—”
“I know baby,” he breathed. “Let me have you tonight. Just tonight. Please?” His kisses grew needy and desperate, trailing from your jaw to your lips. His opposite hand cradled the back of your neck.
“Just tonight.” You gasped and his fingers continued their torment.
The bedroom was bathed in soft, amber light. A tall mirror rested against the wall, catching your every movement. A soul record hummed lowly from the corner of the room as Michael guided you onto the bed. He stripped you completely bare with slow, deliberate hands until there was nothing left between his skin and yours.
He turned you gently, kissed down your spine, and murmured against the back of your neck, “On your knees, baby. Face down. Arch that pretty back for me… right here where we can both see everything.” You moved into position without hesitation — cheek and breasts pressed to the cool sheets, knees spread wide, back arched deep so your ass lifted high and presented. The mirror gave you both the perfect view: your body open and vulnerable, glistening already from how badly you wanted him.
Michael knelt behind you, large hands smoothing over your hips before gently spreading you apart so he could see every glistening inch of you. He leaned in without warning and buried his face right between your thighs from behind. His tongue dragged flat and slow through your slick folds, from your clit to your entrance. He tasted you deep before he sealed his mouth over your clit and sucked.
A low, cracked groan tore from his throat as he buried his face deeper, nose pressing against you, tongue working your swollen clit in relentless circles while he sucked like he was starving for you.
The sounds were obscene in the quiet room — the wetness of his tongue against your sopping folds, his muffled groans vibrating straight through your clit. The slick noises every time his tongue fucked shallowly into you.
Your pussy drooled fresh arousal onto his tongue and he lapped it up greedily, sucking your clit back into his mouth with another hungry moan that made your thighs shake. You couldn’t keep yourself from pushing your hips backward against him. His hand roamed over your ass, squeezing gently.
“Fuck, baby…” he rasped against you, voice wrecked and muffled. “Taste so good like this… I missed you so much.”
Only after he had you shaking and leaking did he finally away, lips shiny and chin wet. He dragged two fingers through your soaked folds first, spreading you open, then gently pushed just his thumb inside. A soft moan, almost a whimper escaped his throat the second your walls fluttered around the digit, immediately suckling and clenching like they were trying to pull him deeper. “Fuck…” he breathed, thumb stroking slow and shallow, feeling every tiny ripple and squeeze. “Already so needy for me, princess.”
He withdrew his thumb slowly, watching the way it glistened, then lined up the thick head of his cock with your entrance, pushing inside you with one long, steady glide that stretched you open around him. Your walls welcomed him with the same fluttering, rippling grip that he remembered, and a helpless whimper slipped from your lips as you stared into the mirror.
Michael’s hand wrapped around your ankle, thumb brushing the heel of your foot. The delicate gold anklet you wore caught the light with every movement. He held you steady as he started to stroke. Long, deep strokes that dragged every inch of him along your sensitive walls. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, jaw tight, eyes flicking between the mirror and where you were joined.
You couldn’t look away. In the reflection you watched everything: the way his cock disappeared into your soaked pussy over and over, the sticky strings of your essence mixed with his pre-cum stretching and snapping between your bodies every time he pulled back. Filthy and glistening. Your pussy looked puffy and greedy around him, clenching visibly with every thrust.
He kept stroking, rolling his hips smoothly with immense control from years of dancing, making every grind deep and precise. Then he looked up in the mirror, dark eyes heavy-lidded, and found your gaze already locked intensely on him.
He continued rocking his hips into you, drawing the prettiest moans from you. The cockiest grin slowly spreading across his lips as the thought hit him.
She’s enjoying watching herself like this — all submissive and spread open for me in the mirror.
He kissed his lips at you in the reflection, slow and sensual, and winked, never breaking the rhythm of his hips. Then he brought his hand down in a sharp smack to your ass, the sound cracking through the room as pleasure jolted straight through your cunt.
Your tummy fluttered hard at the way he looked at you — that slow, heated stare like he could devour you whole, and your pussy creamed around him in response. You were hypnotized by the way he rolled his body into you, sinking deep with a smooth, wave-like grind that made every inch of him fill you up in a way that made your eyes flutter and roll back.
“Look at you, baby,” he rasped, voice low and rough as he kept those long, deep strokes going. “Watching yourself get fucked like this. So pretty, mama.”
"T-thank you. J-just like that" You squeaked through your moans.
He glanced down at where you were connected in the mirror, admiring the mess. The way your pussy clenched and leaked around his cock, creamy and slick, painting his abdomen with your arousal. He was stroking you so deep your walls were milking him, a glossy white ring formed at the base of his cock with every thrust.
“Fuck, baby… look at how deep I’m buried in this pretty pussy,” he groaned, eyes coming back up to meet yours in the mirror. “Filling you up so good... making you cream all over me. You getting off on watching yourself give in to me like this? Watching me fuck you open… good girl.”
You couldn’t talk if you wanted to. Non-sensical babble fell from your lips as he continued to dig deeper into your walls.
The filthy words and the sight of him, eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip caught between his teeth now as he watched himself stroke your arched body in the reflection — pushed you right to the edge.
Your eyes rolled back in the mirror as the first orgasm crashed over you. Your cunt clamped down hard, gushing around him while you sobbed into the sheets, drool soaking the fabric under your cheek. Your thighs shook violently, walls fluttering and milking him through every wave.
Michael didn’t stop. One hand stayed wrapped around your ankle while the other slid under your belly, palm pressing firm and steady against the lower swell where he was buried so deep. He kept stroking, long, deep, relentless. Even as you came.
“Please— Michael, you’re gonna make me squirt,” you whimpered, voice broken and desperate, thighs already quaking.
His mouth fell open at your vulgarity, eyes darkening with raw hunger in the mirror. For a split second he just stared at you, lips parted, like the words had short-circuited something in him. Then he pressed his palm a little firmer against your belly and kept stroking. He ignored your pleas, grinding his thick cock so deep the head kissed your cervix and brushed over the sensitive ridge of nerves deep inside you.
The combination was intoxicating. Your second release hit like a wave breaking. You squirted hard around him, a hot, messy rush that soaked his thighs and the sheets beneath you. Your whole body jerked, thighs shaking involuntarily as you gushed and clenched.
Overstimulation crashed into you hard and you tried to bury your face in the sheets to hide from it. But of course, Michael’s hand left your belly and slid up, wrapping firmly around your throat just under your chin. He held your head up, forcing you to keep your eyes on the mirror.
“Be a good girl and watch yourself cum for me,” he growled, voice thick with lust as he watched the way your face melted into raw, helpless ecstasy. Your features softened and twisted in pure overwhelming pleasure, eyes fluttering and rolling back as it completely took you.
“That’s it. Give it to me. Good girl, baby. Don’t you dare look away. Look at how pretty you are when you’re taking it— mouth fallin’ open every time I hit that spot. I want you to see exactly how needy you look when I’m buried this deep inside you... How pretty you are with that fucked out look on your face”
“I know, baby,” he rasped, never loosening his grip under your chin, still rolling his hips deep and steady while you squirted and clenched around him. “Watch yourself. Watch how perfect you look cumming like this for me. Say thank you, baby.”
Your voice came out wrecked and stuttering as another wave hit, “T-Thank you— fuck, thank you, Michael— thank you for fucking me like this—”
The sound of you thanking him while he held your throat and forced you to watch yourself come undone pushed him over the edge. Michael groaned deep and filthy, hips stuttering as he started pumping thick ropes of cum inside you, still holding your throat and forcing you to watch both of you come undone together in the reflection. His cum mixed with your squirt in messy, creamy pulses that leaked out around his cock with every thrust while he kept stroking through it.
You were completely overstimulated — thighs quaking violently, body twitching, broken little pleas spilling from your lips as another weak, shattering wave hit you while he filled you. Only when the last pulses faded did he finally ease his hand from your throat, both palms smoothing over your trembling hips and lower back as he slowed to lazy, shallow grinds.
When he pulled out, a thick, messy flood of cum and your squirt poured from you onto the sheets. He cooed contently at the sight, turning you carefully onto your side and pulling you into his chest. Immediately he wrapped both arms around you. One big hand found your lower back again, rubbing slow, soothing circles while he pressed soft kisses to your temple, your jaw, the corner of your drool-slicked mouth.
“I got you, princess,” he whispered, voice hoarse and full of awe, nose nuzzling against your cheek. “My good girl… You were so perfect. Looked so pretty squirting all over me like that.”
You were still floaty and twitching with aftershocks, voice small and wrecked. “Maybe I need to reconsider this "just one time" thing…”
He smiled against your skin, pulling the sheet over both of you and keeping that steady hand on your lower back. Mission accomplished. Make you cum so hard for him that you wouldn’t wanna leave him.
“Just rest, baby. We’ll talk about it later. I’m right here.”
He stayed exactly like that. Holding you close, rubbing your lower back in those slow, grounding circles, and pressing soft kisses wherever he could reach until your breathing evened out and the tremors finally eased.
synopsis: jaafar and reader spend a lazy morning together in tokyo ahead of the 'michael' press tour.
pairing: jaafar jackson x reader
warnings: fluff, making out, suggestive content but no actual smut
word count: 2,681
a/n: been working on this one for soooo long and i couldn't find a way to end it so sorry it's a bit abrupt. working on a request as well so expect that in the next few days! enjoy :)
Sunlight spilled into the hotel room through a crack in the blinds, brightness bleeding through your closed eyelids. You groaned as you turned onto your front, burying your head into your pillow trying to wish away the morning. A lazy arm was slung loosely over your waist, belonging to your boyfriend, Jaafar.
You stayed with your face buried into the pillow for a minute longer, before opening your eyes and sighing in defeat. The day had to start at some point, you thought to yourself as you turned back over and began to sit up, hands coming to your face to rub the sleep away. Before you could get any further than sitting upright, the lazy arm that was draped over you now grasped your waist. You looked over to Jaafar who was squinting at you sleepily as he tried to protest you getting up.
“What are you doing?” He groaned, slightly muffled by the pillow that half of his face was buried in.
“Going to have a shower, is that okay with you?” You laughed, reaching a hand down to rake through his messy curls. He smiled instantly at your touch, leaning into your hand and humming.
“Don’t go. Let’s just stay like this forever.” He mumbled out, his other arm now coming to trap you in his hold, as he buried his face into your side.
You had joined him in Japan for the premiere of Michael, landing late last night and heading straight to your hotel room as you were both exhausted from the long day of travelling. While half of the team had arrived last night, the rest of them were arriving this morning, giving you and Jaafar a day to yourselves except for a few meetings and final fittings, the press tour officially beginning tomorrow.
“You don’t want to go and explore Japan today?” You asked, looking down at him humorously.
He shook his head again, causing you to laugh and try to wriggle out of his grasp which only made him hold you tighter. With an amused sigh, you gave in and shuffled down further onto the bed. The shower could wait, you thought as you lay facing him now. You brought your hand up, fingertips lightly grazing the side of his face as you watched his sleepy state. His long eyelashes brushed the tops of his cheeks, and a slow smile grew on his face as you continued to caress his face. He looked especially beautiful in the mornings, when he wasn’t quite awake enough to shy away from your admiring gaze.
The sliver of morning sun was now cast across half of his face, lending his skin a golden hue. You thought that he couldn’t get more perfect, smiling as you closed the space between you to press a quick kiss to his lips, pulling back to watch the pink flush creep onto his face. He opened his eyes to fully look at you now, smiling up at you as his eyes scanned your eyes, before dropping to your lips. You felt your heart flip as his gaze lingered on your mouth, his tongue darting out over his lower lip before he slowly dragged his eyes back up to yours. A mischievous smirk now tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes stayed locked on yours as he relished in the way you slightly squirmed under his gaze. His moves were purposeful and agonisingly slow as he sat up slightly to lean on his forearm, leveling with you now. Your hand dropped from his face as he moved, his instead coming up to cup your chin, brushing your parted lips with his thumb. The smirk on his face persisted as he leaned in and captured your lips with his slowly. The kiss was intense yet remained excruciatingly slow, and you could feel Jaafar smiling against your lips at your reaction as you gasped, trying to quicken the kiss.
“Slow down, baby.” He murmured against your lips, pulling back teasingly. He stiffened slightly when you let out a whine in protest, not expecting your neediness. Your faces were inches apart as you looked up at him, your lips swollen and cheeks flushed. The confidence exuding from him a minute ago disappeared at the sight of you, and his eyes darkened as he leaned down to kiss you again. His composure was slipping as you grasped a fistful of his loose, white shirt, trying to close any remaining space between you. The kiss was messy and desperate, your gasps in between filling the silence as he moved his hand from your jaw to the back of your neck to slowly guide you further down onto the bed. You lay beneath him, his curls now covering his forehead as he continued to kiss you, movements hungry with desire.
Before either of you could go any further, a buzzing from the bedside table filled the room, making you pull back to look over at Jaafar’s phone ringing. You looked back up at him, cheeks flushed and breathing heavy, but he seemed entirely uninterested in whoever was trying to contact him. His eyes remained dark and fixed on your face as his mouth found yours again, catching you off guard. You pulled back again, looking up at him disapprovingly.
“Jaafar.” You scolded playfully.
He watched you with a smirk, still breathing heavily.
“Yes. That’s my name.” He remarked, leaning in to place soft kisses on your jaw. He worked his way down your neck slowly, a line of kisses guiding the way.
You laughed in disbelief as the phone stopped ringing, grabbing him by his shoulders and lightly pushing him so you were face to face again.
“You don’t think that maybe you should’ve gotten that?” You chuckled, eyebrows raised.
“This is more important.” He replied, eyes dropping to your lips again.“And if it was urgent, they would’ve called again.” He said as he hovered above your lips, before closing the space between you again.
As if on cue, his phone started ringing again, its rhythmic buzz filling the room. He groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder before reaching over you to answer.
“Hello?” He said into the phone, irritation evident in his face as he lay back onto the bed next to you, dragging his hand slowly over his face.
You stifled a laugh into his shoulder, wrapping your arm around his and placing a quick kiss to his temple before getting up.
His eyes traced you as you walked over to your suitcase and picked out some clothes and your toiletries before padding over to the bathroom. You placed your things down before standing in front of the sink to brush your teeth. The thought of both of you kissing with morning breath made you cringe a little as you unzipped your bag and took out your toothbrush and toothpaste, looking at your flushed reflection as you brushed your teeth. You could hear him speaking through the door, your heart warming at his tone which always seemed to soothe you.
Half an hour later and you were dressed and ready for whatever Japan had to offer. You were rifling through your bag on the end of the bed, trying to find your lipstick, when you suddenly felt a pair of hands on your waist. You smile instinctively at Jaafar’s touch as he emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. He placed a kiss in the crook of your neck, making your heart skip a beat. Jaafar noticed the way you froze immediately, smirking at the effect he was having on you as he tightened his grip on your waist, continuing to kiss your neck.
“We’re never going to leave the hotel at this rate.” You lightly laughed, your voice coming out way more breathy than you intended. You turned your head to look at him, aware of how your face must be flushed.
“Good.” He replied, muffled by his mouth still attached to your neck. He looks up to meet your eyes, sending a jolt of electricity through you. You were constantly surprised at the way just his eyes on yours still had an affect on you so long into your relationship.
You turned now to face him, your legs slotting between his as he towered over you, a drop of water falling from his freshly washed hair. His eyes dart between yours before dropping to your lips, then back to your eyes with a dark look. He leans down to kiss you again, but this time you cup his jaw with your hands, holding him in place.
“Jaafar. We have to go. You literally have a fitting in a few hours." You said sternly, a hint of humour still lingering in your tone.
You placed a quick kiss on the tip of his nose before turning around with all the self restraint you had and grabbing your bag. Jaafar let out a groan in protest as he stood there for a moment, eyes tracking you, before reluctantly getting ready.
Tokyo was bustling by mid-morning, the streets filled with tourists and locals. The city had been awake long before you and Jaafar, an electric energy pulsing through the urban landscape. The cars dragged along the roads in an incessant rhythm, the sound of traffic becoming white noise in the lively city.
You walked behind Jaafar, loosely holding his hand as he guided you through the bustling crowds. He was wearing a pair of loose, dark brown slacks with a white t-shirt which ended just where his pants began, and his position in front of you gave you the perfect view to admire him. You had both decided that breakfast was a must, so you scoured the streets for a spot to eat. A quiet cafe tucked down a side alley caught your eye, and ten minutes later you and Jaafar were sitting in a hushed corner, eyeing each other over cups of coffee and sharing a pastry.
You were excitedly chattering away about a couples massage place that was five minutes away from your hotel when Jaafar tried to discreetly take a photo of you. Key word: tried. You stopped mid-sentence, narrowing your eyes at Jaafar who quickly placed his phone down onto the table, gesturing for you to carry on.
“Jaafar. I saw that.” You said, pointing a finger at him accusingly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He replied, reaching for his mug and taking a sip of coffee, watching you with an amused grin.
“Well, can I see your phone then?” You asked, a faux sweetness coating your voice as you batted your lashes at him playfully.
He jokingly rolled his eyes in response, before reaching for his phone and showing you the picture he had captured of you moments earlier. He held his phone from a distance so you couldn’t delete the picture, making you lean in to get a good look.
In the photo, you were looking at Jaafar with a smile, your hands blurred from gesturing, a soft pink blush littering the tops of your cheeks. Your expression was gentle, the skin around your eyes softly crinkled as you spoke.
“I like the look you get when you’re excited about something. I wanted to capture the moment.” Jaafar admitted, making you blush as he pulled his phone back, glancing one more time at the picture before sliding his phone into his pocket.
You brought your hands to your cheeks, feeling the heat radiating off of them at his words. It was moments like these which made your heart melt as you relished in the way Jaafar loved you. Softly. Tenderly. You reached for his hands across the table now, clasping his fingers with yours and bringing his hand up to your mouth to place a quick kiss on his knuckles. He immediately became flustered, looking down to his lap, then back to your eyes.
By the time you’d left the cafe, the midday rush had hit Tokyo. People in suits and pencil skirts and blouses whizzed past you both in a hurry, and convenience stores now stood with their doors propped open to welcome the lunchtime buzz. Jaafar had half an hour until he had to go for his fitting, so you both lazily strolled along the streets towards the hotel, your hands intertwined.
Along the way something caught your eye; a photo booth. You paused in the middle of the street, mouth dramatically dropping.
“Oh my god.” You exclaimed, tugging Jaafar towards the small booth covered by a red curtain.
He chuckled at your excitement, allowing you to drag him inside. He sat down on the small stool before gesturing at you to sit down on his lap. Your heart skipped a beat as you complied, shifting to make yourself comfortable as he leaned forward and slotted some coins into the machine. His hands found your hips, holding you in place as you leaned back against him, waiting for the photobooth to begin. Suddenly, a flash. You whipped your head to Jaafar with your eyebrows raised as he looked towards the machine with his eyebrows furrowed.
“Okay. No countdown then.” He said as you both dissolved into giggles.
You braced your hand on his shoulder as you tried to catch your breath and stop laughing, just as another flash went off, making you both laugh harder. He tightened his grip on your waist, his other hand bracing himself on his thigh as he took deep breaths in between laughs.
“Okay, okay. Ready for the next one?” You breathed out, laughter fizzling out. Jaafar turned his head to look at you, and locking eyes in a way that made your breath hitch. Your heart flipped momentarily at the intensity in his gaze, forgetting what was so funny a moment ago. He slowly reached his hand up to gently cup your face, the pad of his thumb caressing your under eye to wipe away a tear - remnants of your laughing fit moments earlier. Your eyes fluttered shut as his touch, slightly leaning into his hand, which lingered. Flash. You opened your eyes to find Jaafar much closer to your face than he was when you closed your eyes, making you suck a quick breath in. His eyes roamed your face, before flitting down to your mouth. Your lips parted ever so slightly, and you watched as Jaafar’s jaw tightened, a hard knot of muscle bulging as he watched your movements. The air in the small photobooth suddenly felt thick and charged as Jaafar slowly moved in, the thumping of your heart against your ribs now the only thing you could feel. He stopped a breath away, his eyes darting from your lips to your eyes as if asking permission. You held your breath, bringing your hand to steady yourself on his shoulder, before closing the space between you. Finally, the fourth flash. You both grinned against each other, the kiss being a messy blend of teeth clanking and breathless giggles that soon dissolved into something deeper. Jaafar grasped your face desperately as your hands came to find the nape of his neck, your bodies now flush against each other. All you could taste was the lingering of coffee, his warm lips finding home against yours. Dizziness flooded your senses as he slowly pulled back, the reality of the fact you were stuffed into a tiny photobooth hitting you both at the same time.
The enclosed space was filled with the sound of heavy breathing and your heartbeat in your ears, as his hand came up to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. His eyes stayed trained onto your face, watching the way your dazed eyes darted between his as a small smile lingered. You cleared your throat as you pushed yourself off of him and clambered out of the booth, Jaafar remaining close behind. The warmth in your chest remained as you collected your pictures and started down the street, hands entwined and large grins plastered on both of your faces.
content/warnings: quickie smut, jaafar's in his michael makeup, wife! reader, they're currently in tension bc theyre mad with each other, so it lowkey starts angsty but ends steamy and redemption, short but sweet, sub and whiny jaafar YES, dry humping into unprotected sex (hints at breeding kink), fem anatomy described
WC: 4.1k
A/N: i knew as SOON as i saw him post this picture... a fic was incoming LOL. also, i've been getting lots and lots of questionable and hate comments under my account and i'm here to tell all the haters that this is not the page to do so. i will cuss you out AND block you!
You’ve been gnawing at your lip for what seemed the entire car ride- 45 minutes to be exact. You were unsure whether even coming to see your husband at work was the right idea, especially right now. But it was a tradition you both had built since he began filming, and you weren’t planning to break it just because you happened to be mad at him.
The argument started two nights ago over something that should’ve been small but has grown slightly. Due to Jaafar’s new movie, Michael, being a family-oriented production, much of the funding came directly from the Jackson family. Thankfully, most of the older family members had their wealth secured and set, and didn’t dig too deep when investing their funds. The second generation, such as the Jacksons’ kids, including Jaafar, weren’t as wealthy. They had their privileges, of course, but most of the money they made was earned individually. Jaafar had built his wealth through music production and occasional film score composing.
When you got married, you agreed that any major financial decisions would be made together. That was the smartest and most conscious decision. For the five years you two have been married, that deal has been kept. A couple of days ago, however, you received a phone call from your accountant, who let you know that a very large sum had been removed from your account and transferred to someone else. When you double-checked with her to assure it was a mistake, she let you know that Jaafar had signed off on it. You looked into it, and it turns out, Jaafar had contributed his own investment into the film, without double-checking with you. It made your stomach twist with irritation and hurt, but you chose to brush it off till he got home that evening.
You were at the kitchen table, dinner in hand, as the front door opened. Jaafar walked in, throwing his hoodie on the coat rack before making his way into the kitchen. “Hey, baby.” He muttered and reached to press a kiss on your face. You turned slightly, lips hitting your hair instead.
His eyebrows rose in confusion, but he brushed it off, turning to the sink to wash his hands. He took a quick glance at you, searching for anything that could alert him to why you hadn’t greeted him back. “How was your day today?”
You shrugged, food no longer looking appetizing. You set the fork down and picked up the glass of juice. “Could’ve been better.” Jaafar sets his plate down, arms holding his upper body up against the marble-grained countertop. “Why’s that?”
“Why did you take 1 million dollars out of our account and give it to the Estate?” You curtly say, pivoting your body towards Jaafar. You point to the flat screen of your phone against the table, lip twitching in uncertainty. You hated confrontation, and doing it with your favorite person made you hate them even more.
He sighs, shaking his head. He parts his mouth, ready to give an explanation even he knows isn’t enough for you to just leave it alone. “You know my family’s all giving their own shares. I thought it’d be necessary if I did too.”
“Without checking with me?”
“I didn’t think I needed to. With filming going on, we needed more funds for some reshoots we’re doing. I thought it was obvious.”
You scoff, standing from your chair. You stride towards the kitchen, across from Jaafar as he keeps his gaze on you. “We have been asking each other about that kind of stuff for 5 years, Jaafar. Why would it change now?”
He shrugs his shoulders, and his unwillingness to even pretend he can’t see where you’re coming from begins to make your blood boil, but you cross your legs, holding onto the counter for some sort of support, at least.
“I get you want to help your family out, and it is your movie, but you have to let me know. I cannot see that kind of money just being transferred out of our account with no explanation.”
“It’s just money. We’ll get it back, I promise.”
“That’s not the point I’m trying to make, Jaafar, and you know it. It’s the fact that you did it without checking with me first.”
Jaafar picks up his plate and fills it with food. You stand, baffled, unsure whether he was done talking to you. He walks behind you, taking his seat in the chair at the table. You turn, hands raising in confusion. “Are we done discussing this?”
“We’re not discussing anything. You’re arguing with me about it while I’m trying to explain my side.”
“No one’s trying to argue, babe. I’m just letting you know I didn’t feel comfortable with that happening.”
He sighs, eyes closing as he rests his head in his palms, breathing without structure. You cross your arms, feeling defeated. “And I’m letting you know what it’s for. I’m not asking for the money back; we need it. The movie needs it. I need it.”
There’s a slight crack in his voice as he speaks, and you know the pressure of everything is on him. It’s in the tired creases around his melancholy eyes, under the plumpness of his chapped lips. It’s in the small bruises in his hands and knees, dancing for hours till his toes bleed in pleas for a break.
But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s belittling your side of the conversation, so you muster all the courage inside you to shake your head, foot tapping against the tiles under your slippers. “I understand that. I do, I really do. But that amount of money is huge. There’s no excuse for that. We’ve been talking about wanting to try for children soon, yet you make decisions like this behind my back without consulting me first. That hurts, J.”
“It’ll play out when the movie comes out. That money will come back, and more.”
You suppress an eye roll and shrug your shoulders. “Can you even try to apologize and see where I’m coming from?”
“I do see your side, baby, I do. But please, for the sake of peace, see mines too.”
Your heart hurts. You understand he’s deflating the way he is because of pressure, exhaustion, and confusion. But you know you’re right, too. And neither of you is willing to recognize each other’s explanations right now. You take a deep breath and raise your hand. “Fine, then. For the sake of peace, sleep in the guest room.” And with that, you give him one last disappointed look before walking away. For a second, you think he’ll apologize and come after you. But in the next second, your steps stay lonely.
The next morning, Jaafar doesn’t say anything to you before he leaves. He brews you a mug of coffee, but doesn’t leave a note or even bother sending a text message throughout the day to check up on you, like he usually does. You knew the argument could’ve been fixed with a simple apology from him, and maybe a rational thought from you as well, but it was puerile behavior from the two of you now. You reciprocate the same energy by not making him dinner that evening and staying by the pool until he falls asleep. You walked by the guest room and took a quick peek inside. He’s asleep, still dressed in his clothes, even having his shoes on. He’s shivering, and he’s holding the throw pillow tight in his hands. The sight makes your insides turn, in regret and empathy. You shake your head to yourself and walk inside, softly pulling the pillow to the floor. You reach to take his shoes off, and hold his sole carefully, aware of the blisters covering his toes. You throw the blanket on his body, giving his thigh a squeeze before walking away.
“I love you.” His voice is dazed, interrupting your attempt to quietly leave the room.
You hold onto your chest before breathing softly. “I love you. Night.” Your voice is fragile, and even as Jaafar’s hardly awake, he heeds the pain in your voice. It makes the guilt soothe him even more, and he closes his eyes, afraid that if he keeps them open, he’ll shatter into a million pieces.
•┈┈
You park your car in the parking garage, taking a deep breath and holding onto the bag you’ve brought with you. You brought one of Jaafar’s favorite foods, a crispy chicken sandwich from the Honor Bar. It was where he took you for your first date, and you’ve been bringing him lunch every week, as a way to see him amid all the busy hours throughout the work days.
The crew members greet you as always, giving you polite gestures as you walk through the halls with your bags in hand. Your pass is wrapped around your neck, and you check the time on your watch before stopping in front of Jaafar’s door. You bring a hesitant hand to the door before taking a breath, knocking softly against the wood. You wait a beat before opening the door, and feel the breath you’ve been holding in release on its own. Your occupied hand trembles, and you feel your body betraying you as you force your mouth shut.
Jaafar is in front of his vanity, a small mirror mounted on the wall, with bright, intense lights highlighting the details of his face. He’s dressed so elegantly, still in costume. His makeup and hair still intact, and despite visiting him for so long, you’ve never actually seen him in costume. Not so still, at least. And alone.
You hate the fact that there’s a flicker of disbelief in his face, one that he masks with relief. You give him a small smile and clear your throat. “Hi.”
“Hi, baby.”
“You look shocked to see me here. Not sure I like that.” You close the door and turn the lock as you take a seat on the couch across from Jaafar.
He opens his mouth, gazing into your eyes as he removes the sparkling white glove from his hand. “I figured we’d still be… you know. I think I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”
There’s a small scoff that escapes from you, but you follow it with a tut. You cross your legs, tapping your fingers against your knee. “How are your hopes now?”
Jaafar bites his inner lip, tugging at the tag on his pants as a distraction. “Undeserving.”
You take his mutter into consideration, cognizant of the tone as he waited for your response. You hum, dipping your head as your eyes remain locked with his. “We have to talk about it eventually. Now, preferably. I don’t want our food to get cold.”
He softly breaths, an attempt at expressing a sense of humor, but he’s too emotional to do so. “I’m sorry for my behavior these past few days. For a while, actually.” You give him a nod, an acknowledgment of the understanding of what he means.
“The process for creating this film, and bringing it to life, has become such an overwhelming process. I got so wrapped up in trying to figure things out the way all these experienced people have done before that I thought I could do it, too. In doing so, I went against our core vows and have hurt you in the process. That was never my intention, baby. I truly am so sorry for the way I've acted over the past few days. I gave you space because I know we both needed that more than anything. But I missed you so fucking much, I was going crazy.” Jaafar’s voice cracks numerous times, and he feels the top of his lip wet with several tears. He doesn’t care to let the emotion come to life, because he deserves to feel the regret he came to terms with the moment he saw you walk away.
There’s no sound in the room besides your heavy breathing, and it takes every restrictive power in you to stop you from standing and shoving Jaafar’s delicate face into your chest. The tears streaming down his face break you so gently. You taste the sweat under your chin as you bring it to your lips, moving anxiously under Jaafar’s red eyes.
“I’m sorry for not being willing to see your side, baby. I think I always did, but I was mad at you for being so stubborn.” You whisper, eyes slightly dipping in mendacious tautness as your husband gives you a concurring nod.
He dabs at his face, attempting to wipe any tears off his prosthetics before he continues speaking. “You wouldn’t have to feel that way if it weren’t for me. I’m so sorry, sweet girl.”
The nickname breaks you of any restraint, and your body rises before your mind alerts you. You close the short distance between the two of you and wrap your arms around Jaafar’s sequenced shoulders, rubbing at any previous rigidness with consoling devotion and pardon. He feels the way only your unique and soothing touch can bring him back to life fully, and he closes his eyes, a quiet moan escaping him. It was quiet under the heavy breathing that was transpiring from his mouth, which you almost didn’t catch. Almost.
“Now, now, I forgive you, baby. I missed you, too.” There’s a commanding intonation in the manner you hum against Jaafar’s styled hair, and suddenly the friction between the two of you grows desperate. This was secretly your favorite part after all the worries are no more, and the things you have said to one another are gone. Somehow, it always got to that point. Where sincere apologies are made, and you drop the authoritarian act, and become authoritative. The anger is no longer quiet screaming, but instead moans of passion. In some way, you sometimes wonder if this unbreakable habit is wrong, but it always gets to that point somehow. Where your clothes become half-off, and all the pent-up frustration becomes released through ruts and rushed kisses.
There’s a twitch in Jaafar’s hardening cock as he hears the tone in your seductive syllables, and he forces his hand against the pinch of your waist to relax. He slightly pulls his head away from your chest and throws his head back. “We’re done filming for the day, in this costume. I’m ‘posed to be taking this makeup off, actually.”
You hum in reply to his piteous mumble and bring your fingers across Jaafar’s face, fixating on every detail of his features. The makeup team took their time in ensuring his face was exact to what his uncle’s details were, and you ran your fingers extra carefully on the parts you noticed were made with additional caution. It was something so alluring about seeing Jaafar in this costume and makeup- it was almost like it was another version of him you never knew you could access. But having him under your touch, legs on either side of his perfectly built thighs, made your core begin to moist with seduction and satisfaction- a guilty pleasure, if truth be told. “Is that so? And here I was, having some time to watch how beautiful you look in that makeup.”
Jaafar would never get used to the way you would confidently call his beauty out. He knew he was a pretty man, but hearing the words come out of your lips, the ones he loved to run his tongue against, was another form of a tantalizing rush down his cock, quickening his pulse until his mind would become foggy, control no longer his. “Can you help me take it off, then? Please, baby?”
A double glance at the locked door is all it takes for your lips to crash against Jaafar’s. Your tongue swirls against his, desperate savoring evident in your hoarse exhales. Your hands run along the back of his head, textured curls tangled in between your fingers. There’s a soft piece caught between your ring as you pull, which makes Jaafar whine. The cry is frenzied, and a smirk crawls on your lips. His hands began to fondle with whatever plumpness of your body he could find, wanting to capture whatever he could knead.
Every clash against your mouth is an unspoken plea Jaafar begs for sonorously. He needs more, and despite the wetness of his pre-cum you feel against the material of your bottoms, the distance is too much. He knows there’s a time limit that the two of you have to fool around before work begins again, and the warmth that circulates throughout his body is enough sampling to thrill him for more. He takes a shameful swallow before lifting his hips up, readjusting himself in the chair, and gripping onto your hip bone. He laps at your lip as he moves your body against his own, the drag of your clothed cunt against his own cock melting flawlessly. You grind onto his lap with erratic snaps, eyes rolling back with elation. The thrums against your skin become too much, and you pull off your top, crashing Jaafar’s face into your chest. He does his job in nipping at the softness of your breasts, ensuring a mark is left with a desperate lick. His patterns become overstimulating, so you pull down your bra and keen in roil as his teeth graze over your nipples.
Jaafar silently begs to whoever is listening to his intoxicating mind to allow him to remain in this bliss forever. His eyes trace over the transfer of his makeup against the sweat on your skin, and that sight is the most captivating thing he’s ever seen on you. He feels his hair stick onto his skin, but his focus remains on the bounce of your breasts, every hump against the curve of his cock enveloping him in a trance he never wants to snap out of, not even when he feels his release begin to build up.
You feel the metal of his zipper hit your clothed pussy, and the sensation makes your button tingle with electricity. You feel your slick continue to swell, pleating against your folds. Your jerks are intense, like a personal workout your body appreciates you’ve decided to take. Your eyes open for a slight minute, stuck on the way, Jaafar’s eyes remain riveted on your body. You let out a sharp intake of breath, feeling a tiny bit of drool threaten to escape from the side of your mouth. The consciousness only grows because Jaafar’s eyes begin to well up with tears. Overstimulating tears, the ones that you know he’ll let out the second your walls enclose around his bare cock.
He gives a soft croak as his eyes dip, greed entering his body as he cups your breast. “More, more, more.” Every whine is hasty, yearning for a release. He doesn’t care that his underwear will be sticky once he pulls it down his legs, or the fact that the very expensive costume pants he’s wearing will be ruined with your slick. Jaafar’s only focus is on the rapid darts of his tongue on you. He watches the way your mouth parts open, your head bobbing with every lap he gives you.
He feels the release threatening to snap, so he uses all his force to grip onto your hips even harsher, approving of every pornographic bounce you lay on him. “I need to cum.” He whines against your skin, and you bring your mouth to his ear, softly licking his lobe as your hand runs down his neck and onto his jacket, gripping the material beneath it. The small conscious part of your mind is aware he’s still in costume, and will most likely have to return it once he’s done using it.
The bigger portion of your consciousness, however, only cares about the intense throbs of your cunt, because you give him a laudatory nod, melting at the way your skin burns so perfectly under Jaafar’s reckless hold. Your husband instantly uses his green light and cries, moaning like an animal in heat as his release fills his pants, wet and slick, and begins to run through onto your thighs. Your release comes seconds after, and your bounces slow down, legs spasming with exhaustion.
Your heavy breaths blend, and you bring your hand hurriedly to his pants, unzipping the material, fingers wetting with Jaafar’s cum. You bring a finger rapidly to your mouth and lick it, humming at the taste. Jaafar swears he feels more spill out of his tip, so he brings his hands to help pull his cock out as you stand and step out of your pants, not caring to do the same with your panties. You pull those to the side and keep one hand on Jaafar’s shoulder, breath hitched as you sink down on his cock. Every inch is an eyeroll you give, and before you know it, you’re both immediately swallowed by warmth. There’s a hint of pain, so you use the adjustment to his size to bring your lips to his neck, licking at his sweet spot.
“Thank you, my sweet girl. Thank you.” The tightness disappears into pleasure, and you move slowly. You begin to grind against his shaft, building up slick before you begin to quicken your pace. His hands come up to your face, and your features fit so perfectly against his large palms.
“You’re doing so good for me, for us, my baby. I love you. You always do so great. I admire you, my sweet love.” Every word hits you deeper than his cock, and your body instinctively begins to build an unrelenting tempo, every ride against his perfect cock massaging your walls. It makes your body yearn for more, more than what you’re bucking for.
Every bounce on him becomes a precise beat, hips smacking against one another at the same time. Your fingers run under Jaafar’s eyes, tears slickening them as you softly smirk. “All these tears, just for me, hm?”
He nods without hesitation, cock hitting every spot so perfectly. “Yes, m’am.” Oh god, could he be any more perfect for you? You hum against his skin, watching the ways his curls move against the rhythm you’ve both set, and it makes you fuse grow even quicker.
Jaafar grips both sides of your hips, eyes focused on the way his cock slips in and out of you. Watching the way your cunt is so perfectly stuffed by him, it makes his hunger grow. He takes hold of the control, thrusting himself into you with pounds so heavy and filling, you feel it penetrate you mercilessly. His mouth opens before he can think about what he’s about to say, yet he feels no regret. “I want to cum inside you and put a baby in you. Can I do that? Please? Will you let me stuff you full, sweet girl?” Your moans become inconsolable, and you nod your head, unwilling to care about the reality of what this will mean for both of you. Your legs begin to shudder, and you give warning taps against Jaafar’s face as he nods.
His thrusts become frantic, wanting to make sure you feel the need in every vein inside you, in every rut as he begins to fill you. He directs your hand to your nipple, and you pinch it, and your vision becomes spotty. Your mouth parts, and your back arches as Jaafar’s hips jerk against you. His whines grow louder, and you take every single one in memory as he spills inside you, painting you like a piece he wishes to admire forever. His tired eyes come down to your opening, and he watches in awe as his release spills outside your cunt and down your legs.
You fall onto his chest, knees limp as Jaafar brings his hands to your back, soothing it in a familiar pattern. A wave of aftershock washes over you for some time, so you’re silent, body slightly twitching from the sputters undone.
Jaafar pulls your head off his chest with care, pressing kisses against your face as he whispers comforting praises. It makes you melt, and your walls begin to flutter as he softly twitches inside you. His pupils are dilated, and the sight of his wet, dark, beautiful eyes makes you lean forward, relaxing your mouth against his.
“Sweet girl.” He mutters against you, stroking the softness of your neck as your breathing calms down, no longer past the normal beat.
There are no words, no sound. Just breaths, just nearness. Just Jaafar’s familiar hand brushing his thumb over your knuckles, just existing quietly in a now sacred space you’ll both remember for a lifetime. It’s a moment you begin to already detail your mind over, resting your open palm calmly over your husband’s even heartbeat, a pulse that he gentles with passionate vulnerability.
summary: Jaafar notices you're wearing a different lip combo than usual.
a/n: I'm actually giggling while writing this because this was inspired by a TikTok I saw. I couldn't find the creator again to credit him, but whoever you are... credits to you anddd you're such a green flag.
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
You're in your room getting ready for a girls' day out, doing your makeup like you always do. Jaafar has never been the type to question you whenever you go out with your friends. If anything, he's the one who always reminds you to spend time with them because, according to him, "Your world shouldn't revolve around me."
"Oh. My. God." You froze as you picked up your favorite lip gloss.
Empty.
You let out a dramatic sigh. It was basically a part of your everyday look, and everyone always complimented your lip combo. Since you completely forgot to buy a new one, you settled for a different lip combo instead.
When you walked out of your room, Jaafar was sitting on the couch waiting for you. The moment he looked up, a smile spread across his face.
"Hello there, pretty." Then his eyes went to your lips.
"...No gloss today?"
a/n: Gosh, I love a man who notices everything
"Yeah. I ran out," you said with a small laugh. "I forgot to buy another one."
He nodded and said "Oh that sucks, But you still look good, Baby. C'mon, Your friends are waiting."
The drive was filled with random conversations and songs playing in the background. When he finally dropped you off, he reached for your hand before you got out.
"Text me when you're heading home, okay? I love you."
"I will. Love you more." You gave him one last smile before walking inside.
Jaafar waited until you were completely out of sight before reaching over to the backseat and grabbing your makeup bag.
"Alright..."
He unzipped it.
"Let's see what we're working with."
He checked everything one by one, looking for products that were almost empty.
"Found it."
He picked up your lip gloss and laughed to himself.
"Yeah... definitely empty."
A few more minutes of digging around and he found your concealer and brow gel almost finished too.
"Might as well get these while I'm at it."
He grabbed the empty containers and headed straight to Sephora.
The moment he stepped inside, an employee noticed him looking around.
"Hi! Can I help you with anything?"
"Yeah," he smiled awkwardly. "I'm trying to buy replacements for my girlfriend's makeup."
"Oh, do you know which products she uses?"
"I actually brought the empty containers." He pulled them out, making the employee smile.
"That actually helps a lot. Give me a second, I'll grab the exact ones."
"Thank you."
As he waited, he couldn't help but grin to himself.
It felt like he was on a little secret mission.
He knew makeup wasn't just makeup to you. It was something you genuinely enjoyed, something that made you feel confident. And if buying a few replacements was his way of supporting something that made you happy, then it was more than worth it.
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
hello everyoneee, how are youuu? 🤍 sorry for being inactive :< i've been dealing with some birthday blues since my birthday is getting close (july 2 hehe) i might drop something on that day sooo... hehe. i hope you enjoy this one! thank you for sticking around. love lots!! 🤍
Wholesome!König who metamorphoses into the ultimate European Dad whenever you go to the beach.
Insists on picking you up at 7:15am sharp so you can arrive before all the good spots are taken? Check.
Pulling up his weather app at 15 minute intervals the whole ride there, updating you on wind speed, pollen count, and UV index? Check.
A chunky, waterproof watch on his wrist with three alarms set to ensure the day stays on schedule? Check.
Sunscreen applied to every conceivable inch of skin, with an extra thick glob on his nose? Check.
Swim trunks with tiny pineapples that you bought him after the first time he tried to wear a Speedo to the beach? Check.
But for all his foibles, the day you spend together is truly the highlight of your summer. Arriving early to set up your towels, chairs, and umbrella in the right spot was the best move; the generous application of sunscreen prevents you and your dreadfully fair-skinned boyfriend from turning into lobsters; and to his credit, his regimented, Austrian work ethic does turn off once you're truly settled in your spot.
You alternate between sunbathing, walking up and down the shoreline, and cooling off in the ocean. You've never had a relationship this easy - anything you suggest, he's already halfway done making it happen. Plus, seeing his Baywatch body and muscular build on full display fills you with a mix of desire and smugness, like you know the other women on the beach wish they were you.
When lunch rolls around, König sweeps you out of the water and carries you to the towel "so your wet feet don't get sandy." You would be embarrassed if it didn't heal your inner sixth grader, who'd always dreamed of a man so chivalrous.
It is entirely unsurprising that he's packed an incredible picnic lunch, with kartoffelsalat and hearty roast beef sandwiches and those little packs of pretzel sticks kids used to trade in the cafeteria. He also withdraws a small pitcher from the lunch box and shyly explains that he tried to make mojitos, but he's certain they're terrible and, honestly, you don't actually need to drink it, he's got some water bottles under the icepacks...
When you finally wrap up your day, you're relaxed and sleepy and as happy as you've been in a long, long time. König insists that you remain lounging on your towel while he packs everything else into the car. You doze off on the ride home as your boyfriend smiles fondly and turns down the radio as not to wake you.
[Smut beneath the cut.]
He tries to drop you off at home, but you demand he come inside and at least shower off so he doesn't have to drive back to the barracks grimy with sweat, sunscreen, and sand. Of course he agrees - the man has never said no to you in his life, even before he finally had the courage to ask you out - and he turns eggplant-purple when you casually shuck your swimsuit to join him.
You're stupidly horny for him after seeing him half-naked all day, so you take your sweet time lathering your vanilla bodywash into his skin. He sighs beneath the steam of the shower and the ministrations of your hands, shoulders slumping like his joints and tendons finally realized he's no longer in a combat zone. Blissed out and half way to falling asleep on his feet.
But he wakes right the fuck up when your fingers creep lower and you begin to massage his cock.
König loves your handjobs. He says you're unbelievably good at them and he never needs to worry that his size is hurting you - a frequent insecurity of his when you first became intimate. While you languidly work his hardening member back and forth, you rest your head between his pecs as the water pours down on you both.
He makes the most pathetic little whimpers as your lazy tugs turn into proper pumping. One of his hands flies against the tiles to keep himself steady against the urge to turn into a puddle at your feet.
When you tell him its time to wash his hair, he seems perfectly willing to accept that the handjob is over without having come. But when you ask him to get on his knees so you can reach his head, he quickly picks up on what's actually happening: a perfect excuse to smush his face into your tits.
König may love your handjobs, but he worships breasts.
You squirt some shampoo onto his head and begin to spread it through his short hair while König attends to your chest. Sucking, rubbing his face, thumbing your nipples, and whispering breathless gratitude into your cleavage. It's not terribly long before he picks up where you left off, the wet noises of his hand sliding over his cock speaking to something primal in your cavewoman brain. "I'm so lucky," he says over and over again. "So fucking lucky."
It doesn't take long for him to empty his balls, splattering your legs as he leans so hard into your body you nearly topple. The shower quickly washes away the mess as he plants a final kiss beneath the swell of one breasts.
He quickly asks what you'd like in return - he's happy to lick your pussy for the rest of the night, or he could sit you on his lap and use his fingers - but all you really want right now is a nap. There's something so satisfying about pampering this man, who got dealt a shit hand in life but is somehow still the type to fumble his way through a homemade mojito recipe if he thinks it'll make you smile.
Neither of you bother to put clothes back on as you collapse into bed and wrap your bodies around each other. You think to yourself, not for the first time, what a wonderful father he would make. You can picture with ease König's big hands spreading sunscreen over a little boy who has his eyes and your hair.
A goal for next summer, maybe.
===
I dont usually do requests, but I would literally jump off a bridge for @the-californicationist ❤️💕🧡 Thanks for the prompt, Cali!!
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you save a familar celebrity from a small mob, sweeping him up to your apartment and cooking him dinner. but it’s just an average tuesday, right?
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭/𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: thrillerera!michael x reader (no use of y/n). reader is a fan, but reserved. michael being the sweetest human to ever exist. reader has a slight fear of heights. michael expressing loneliness/not feeling normal.
As the late afternoon settled over New York City, the first cool raindrops kissed your skin, hinting at the storm gathering in the distance. Your hurried footsteps carried you along, grocery bags in hand as you closed in on your apartment building block by block. Wanting to try a new recipe after work had caused you to wander to the grocery store, which was quite a ways from your apartment. How unfortunate, being as you were sure the bottom was about to fall out and you and the grocery bags would be soaked. You held on hope, walking faster than normal, eyes tilting to the sky every few moments as it grew a deeper grey.
Your eyes squinted at the first signs of your building, and irritation quickly grew when you noticed a small crowd by the front entrance. Brows furrowed, you crossed the final crosswalk and closed in on the group of people. Of all places to gather, here? Really? Though you weren’t entirely sure what for at first, you told yourself to ignore it and scoot past them all. You just wanted to get inside.
That’s when you spotted him. You nearly physically recoiled, eyes widening a bit. Blinking, you swore your eyes deceived you. Why on earth was Michael Jackson outside of your apartment? You stood behind the crowd, glancing around for a moment, noticing the lack of anyone who looked important besides him. Surely he wasn’t wandering the streets alone?
You huffed, lifting one of the heavy grocery bags higher on your hip as your brain worked a mile a minute. First of all, you loved Michael Jackson. This felt like some sort of odd fever dream. Rationality broke through however, your eyes raking along his features. You couldn’t see his eyes for the sunglasses shielding them, but what you could see made your stomach churn. He looked worried. Glancing around every few seconds after signing miscellaneous items and kindly nodding at folks. Teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. He was alone. Lacking security. Possibly lost. And the crowd was only growing. Likely close to twenty-five people now.
So, you made your mind up quickly. Rounding the crowd, you mumbled ‘excuse me’ over and over as you cut past people. A few of them getting visibly annoyed with you. “You’re blocking the entrance. People who live here can’t get in!” You said a little loud, causing some of them to take a few steps back. Without another thought, you closed in on the celebrity, clearly startling him. “I live here, come with me.” You said without hesitation, and something flashed through his eyes. Something like relief. Maybe laced with a little fear. “The crowd’s getting worse— I can help.” You said next, and you watched him nod, not saying anything as he waved at the crowd and started to follow you. As the two of you entered the front corridor, you made sure the door locked behind you. Fans still hollering, watching Michael through the glass door.
“Elevator.” You muttered quickly, growing a little scared when one started to pull at the door handle. The door was shitty and though it locked you absolutely didn’t trust it.
You watched Michael follow you into the cramped elevator, only letting out a breath of relief when the metal door slid closed. “Thank you.” He said immediately, pushing his sunglasses up.
“You don’t have to thank me.” You said quickly, smiling a little. “May I ask where your security is, though?”
“Back at the hotel.” He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly shaken. “I uh— snuck out.”
“Well, I hope I haven’t freaked you out. I just figured you could hide away here until the crowd is gone. Think it’s about to storm too.” You explained, the elevator coming to a stop shortly after. “You probably shouldn’t sneak out like that. That could’ve been bad.”
He smiled weakly, lowering his head. “Yeah.” His voice was melodic. Sweet. “I’ve done it before and gotten mobbed. Was hoping this time that wouldn’t happen but…”
“You wanted to feel normal.” You finish for him. “I get it.”
He meets your eyes, looking a little embarrassed. Warmth spreads quickly through his chest as he realizes you understand. And for a moment, he drinks you in. Eyes raking along your soft features. Comforting smile. His guardian angel. Surely you were sent to him on purpose.
The metal door slides open once again, and you’re met with a quiet hallway.
“Can I help you carry something?” Michael asks, motioning to the large brown grocery bags.
“Oh.” You chuckle, offering him one. “Thank you.”
As you step into the hallway, you fiddle with your keys, picking out the familar worn gold one as you walk toward your door. And when the lock flicks, a loud chorus of meows erupt from behind the wooden door.
“Sorry in advance for my cat. She’s a bit of a menace.” You say, hearing Michael laugh a little behind you.
As the two of you enter the apartment, Michael glanced around. For some reason, he felt safe. Even though you were a total stranger. The space was clean. Cozy. Smelled like pine. And then, a loud meowing at his feet as a beautiful tabby cat rubbed against his ankle. “Hi there.” He giggled, the sound of his laughter hitting you like a punch to the gut.
You sat the large grocery bag down on your kitchen counter before you reached for the one he was carrying, thanking him again.
And then, you turned to reach out a hand to him, speaking your name with confidence. He smiled, moving to shake your hand. “Since I didn’t get to introduce myself normally.” You chuckled.
“Thank you, really.” He said, tone genuine. “I appreciate it.”
“It’s no issue at all. Make yourself at home.” You say simply. “I know you don’t know me, but I promise I’m not a weirdo.”
He lets out another sweet laugh. “I believe you.”
You begin to unpack the groceries, and Michael is quick to help, making small talk in the meanwhile. He asks you questions, figuring he might as well get to know you a little. He’d probably be here for a few hours with the rain that was now pouring outside.
So, you open up to him. Answer his questions. Ask him some. It feels normal. Not like a world famous celebrity is standing in your kitchen.
“Glass of wine?” You offer, tilting your head.
“No thank you.” He smiles politely. And you nod.
Once you pour yourself one and turn back around, Michael has wandered out of the small kitchen. You peek out of the doorway, noticing him flipping through your large collection of records.
After a few seconds, he speaks up.
“You listen to me?” He looks over his shoulder, picking Thriller out of the pile.
“Most people do.” You retort, smiling. Making him laugh again. You’re fun. Playful. He likes you.
Michael grins, and thanks his lucky stars that of all the places he could get stuck at, it was here. Of all the people he could be stuck with, it’s you. Sure, you were a stranger. But you were clever. Polite. Clearly generous. And most definitely pretty. Maybe sneaking out hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. For the first time in a while he felt normal. Bill would most definitely fuss at him later for trusting a random person. Following them into their apartment. Intuition though, told Michael he was more than safe here.
You took to a nearby window, sliding it open and letting the sound of rain fill the small space. Breathing in the fresh air. Glass of wine in hand, you took to the couch next, watching Michael place a record onto the turntable, reaching to drop the needle. Otis Redding’s familar voice started to fill the room, and you immediately smiled, nodding in approval. One of your favorites.
“I’ve always wondered what you listen to.” You say, breaking the silence between the two of you.
Michael smiles. “What d’ya mean?”
“Everyone listens to you.” You explain. “You create the music. I just always wonder when I listen to music what the artists listen to. Where they get inspiration from.”
Michael thinks he could listen to your voice all day. Something about it is painfully soothing.
“Knowing you listen to Otis Redding pleases me deeply.” You finish, laughing a little.
“Everyone listens to Otis Redding.” Michael plays, taking a seat on a nearby loveseat.
“Mmmm, not true.” You smile smugly, sipping your wine. “I’ve had quite a few friends flip through those records and have no clue who he is.”
“Well, everyone with good taste listens to him then.” Michael corrects playfully, watching the way your lips turn up into a smile.
“I’ll accept that.”
An hour later you find yourself back in the kitchen, sautéing some vegetables and admittedly feeling a little buzzed from two glasses of wine. Wondering just how your random Tuesday evening had turned into this. Cooking a meal as Michael Jackson kept you company, telling you a story about being in the studio recently. He’d requested to help you cook but inevitably almost chopped a finger off when he was slicing some vegetables, so he relinquished himself of said duties, both of you laughing together. So there he was, looking painfully handsome as he watched you. The pretty stranger he was absolutely struck by.
The rain had started to dissipate, and between the glowing candle or two on the coffee table and the low music flowing throughout the living room, everything felt oh so cozy. Michael watched you, bowl in hand, as you swung a leg out of the open window, looking back at him with a smile. He raised a brow, walking closer. “Figured I’d show you my favorite spot.” You smiled back at him. A true smile that made his cheeks heat up. He watched you climb out onto the fire escape, spread out a towel, and take a seat. Quickly patting the spot next to you. You’d always hated heights but thankfully you were only a couple floors up, so it didn’t bother you too terribly bad. Often finding solace in this very spot, listening to the sounds of the city.
Michael climbed out clumsily, taking a seat next to you, fascination flowing through him. Eyes flickering around as he took in his surroundings. Tall buildings. People walking below. “I love to people watch.” He admits. “I could sit here for hours.”
“Mmm.” You agreed, taking a bite of your food. “Me too. I sit out here a lot.”
“You’ve got a cozy place.” Michael says, moving his fork around.
“Cozy but painfully small.” You chuckle. “And overly expensive.”
As you watch him take a bite, you see his eyes light up, a groan leaving him. You smile as you watch him enjoy his food, watching the people wander below.
For a while, you stayed silent, letting him unwind. Watching him just exist. The man you’d only ever seen on TV. Heard on the radio. The larger than life musician who many only dreamed of sharing a moment with. And here you were. Next to him on your fire escape. Giggling like you’d been friends for years. Life had a funny way of working sometimes.
Following dinner, Michael was able to get his security on the phone after a failed attempt a bit earlier. Organizing someone to come pick him up.
“They were worried sick.” He chuckled a little, watching you lean against the couch.
“I bet they were!” You smiled. “They’re gonna start locking you in your hotel room if you keep running off.”
“God, I hope not.” He laughs as he lingers nearby. “Maybe it wasn’t the smartest decision but atleast this time it was worth it. Meeting you I mean.”
Your face softens, cheeks heating up. “Glad I could help. It was nice to meet you as well, despite the circumstances.”
“And thank you for dinner.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Michael.”
He smiles, shy. “But I do. You saved me and took me in and cooked me dinner. Made me feel human again. I’ll always remember it.”
In the last few moments of your time together, Michael was quick to obtain your phone number, expressing that he’d want to come back and visit you when he was in the city again. And after a quick hug, he was gone. Swept away by his head of security who was sure to quietly thank you for keeping Michael safe before he left.
As you closed the door behind you, you leaned up against it, smiling like a fool. Shaking your head a little in disbelief. And when you started to walk towards the kitchen to clean up, you noticed something on the coffee table. His own record he’d pulled out of your stack. As you approached the table, hands reaching for the Thriller album, you noticed the marker next to it.
His handwriting graced your eyes, a tiny message he’d scribbled in the corner.
Working alongside Valko over the next few weeks had become the absolute highlight of your routine. The initial nerves had completely melted away, replaced by a comfortable, easy rhythm. Today, however, things were a bit quiet. You stared at your monitor, noticing a lag in the incoming data feeds from the Association. Having less work was a nice change of pace, allowing you to catch up on some lingering administrative tasks, but the silence in the room was palpable.
Clap.
You jumped slightly as a large, heavy warmth suddenly clamped down on the top of your head. Before you could protest, Valko’s big hand gently tilted your head back, forcing you to look up at him. Even upside down and looking at him from this ridiculous angle, it irritated you just how fiercely handsome he was.
Valko smirked down at you, the tips of his sharp fangs flashing. "I have an idea."
You let out a soft huff. "Dangerous, but go on."
"We're running low on data, correct?" he asked, his deep voice rumbling.
"Yes?"
He finally released your head, but instead of stepping back, his hands gripped the back of your rolling chair. He leaned down, bringing his face incredibly close to yours, trapping you in his space. "Wanderers tend to be attracted to certain areas of interest. Like cities... and deep woods."
You narrowed your eyes at him, sensing a trap. "Where exactly are you going with this, Chairman?"
"I know some woods we can go to," he murmured, his eyes flashing with amusement. "We can watch the Wanderers in their natural habitats."
"You want to go to the woods?"
"Yes."
You lifted your head, spinning your chair around completely to face him properly. "For like... a few days?"
He smirked, giving you a firm nod. "That's right."
You hummed, tapping your chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, actually, sounds like a good idea. We can go, observe them from the field, and come back."
"Come back?" Valko tilted his head, a chuckle vibrating in his chest. "Oh, no. We'll be staying over."
Your jaw dropped slightly. "Staying over? Here? At the office?"
He shook his head, a look of pure mischief crossing his face as he casually slid his hands into his lab coat pockets. "Nope."
"Wait..." A sudden realisation hit you, and your eyes widened. "Are we... sleeping in the woods?"
"Camping, yes," Valko confirmed, his plush wolf ears giving a tiny, excited twitch. "Do you camp?"
You nodded slowly. "I do. I've done it a few times."
He hummed a satisfied laugh, his chest expanding. "Great. Then we'll do that. I'll organise everything. You just worry about yourself."
You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening at the intense, predatory glint that suddenly took over his eyes. He looked less like a tech genius and a lot more like a wolf who had just successfully lured his mate right into his territory.
"Sure," you gulped, hoping he couldn't hear how fast your heart was suddenly beating.
You finished your shift and went home that evening, fully expecting to meet Valko back at the office the next morning to head out. However, the universe, and your eager boss, had other plans.
The next morning, just as you were finishing up breakfast, a firm knock echoed through your apartment. You opened the door and blinked in sheer shock. Valko stood on your welcome mat with a brilliant, blinding smile. He had completely discarded his stiff corporate suits. Instead, he was wearing a tight, black, sleeveless turtleneck compression shirt. Without his jacket or sleeves, his towering, muscular physique was on full display, every broad line of his shoulders and the thick contour of his arms completely visible.
His eyes dragged down your figure, taking in your light summer camping clothes. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice deepening as a dark smirk spread across his lips. "With your legs out."
You looked down at your exposed legs, suddenly feeling very bare, then looked back up at his teasing expression. "Maybe I should go put on some trousers..."
Before you could step back, Valko’s massive arm snaked around your waist. He pulled you flush against his chest, his high body heat radiating right through your clothes. "No changing," he rumbled gently, his warm breath fanning across your ear and sending a delicious shiver down your spine. "You look perfect."
"Thank you..." you whispered, your cheeks burning.
He gently guided you back inside your place. "Do you have everything?"
"I have my phone... do I need anything else?"
Valko shook his head. "No, I have everything prepared. Just lock up and let's head out."
"Got it." You nodded, turning around to quickly finish up.
As you moved around your apartment, washing up your breakfast dishes, turning off the lights, and making sure everything was locked away, Valko followed you like a shadow. Within minutes, the confined space of your apartment filled with your scent, completely overwhelming his sharp senses. To his inner wolf, this was pure heaven.
While your back was turned, the sophisticated CEO completely vanished. He began wandering around your living room, picking up a stray cardigan you had left on the back of a chair and taking a deep, blissful sniff of the fabric. He moved to your shelves, curiously picking up one of your favourite collectables to examine it, but his large hands clumsily fumbled. The mighty alpha briefly panicked, a look of pure terror crossing his face as he barely caught it before it could shatter on the floor. He quickly set it back, clearing his throat and trying to look casual.
You walked back into the living room, slinging a light backpack over your shoulder. "Valko? What are you doing?"
"Just looking," he said smoothly, acting as if he hadn't almost caused a minor disaster. He wrapped his arm right back around your shoulders, steering you toward the door. "Let's head out."
The journey in Valko’s luxury car took hours. With his gentle blessing, you ended up curling up in the passenger seat and napping for most of the ride. When you finally arrived at the edge of the deep woods, Valko insisted on carrying the vast majority of the heavy camping gear himself. He led you down a winding woodland path, eventually veering off into a completely private, hidden clearing tucked under the shade of a massive ancient tree, right beside a crystal-clear lake.
The two of you worked together to pitch the camp, but once the structure was up, a sudden realisation hit you.
There was only one tent. It was incredibly cosy, which meant you were going to be sharing a very enclosed, intimate space with a literal apex predator.
You forcefully pushed the rising blush down and tried to focus on the actual mission: observing the local Wanderer data. Leaving the main camp, you set up your high-tech cameras and automated EonCore bots near a known Wanderer tracking zone. It was fascinating to watch the creatures move through the wild, and Valko stayed glued to your side the entire time, his sharp intellect guiding your observations.
"Sun is setting soon," Valko mumbled, his eyes shifting from the monitors to the sky. "Wanna watch?"
You gripped your handheld camera tightly. "Mm, yeah. I'd like that."
"Great."
Before you could ask how he planned to get a good view, you let out a sharp squeak as Valko suddenly scooped you into his arms. With impossible strength and agility, he leapt straight up into the sturdy branches of the massive tree above. He sat you down safely on a thick branch, keeping his heavy arm securely locked around your waist to keep you anchored against his side.
Being out in his natural element meant he could no longer hold back his instincts. His plush wolf ears were fully popped out, twitching contentedly in the evening breeze, and his thick, fluffy tail had uncurled. As you sat together, his tail slowly slid around your waist, resting over your lap like a warm, protective blanket. The sheer amount of heat and his intoxicating scent rolling off him made you feel completely dizzy.
"Nice, right?" he asked softly.
Your heart was racing a million miles an hour against your ribs. "The sunset is lovely," you hummed, staring out at the vibrant oranges and pinks bleeding across the sky.
Valko looked down at you, completely ignoring the sunset in favour of admiring your face. "We should do this more often," he murmured, his voice soft and filled with a deep affection. "Admiring the sun... and the nature around us."
You looked up, meeting his warm eyes. "Yeah. I'd like that."
The two of you sat in a peaceful, comfortable silence as the last rays of the sun finally dipped below the horizon, completely vanishing. In its place, a blanket of brilliant stars began to blink into existence, surrounding a luminous, silver moon. Seeing the night sky unfurl over the lake was magical. You couldn’t help but admire the shifting beauty of the forest, the way the daylight birds faded out, replaced by the deep songs of the night, nature coming to life.
A low, deep chuckle vibrated against you, cutting through the quiet. "Cold?" Valko asked softly.
You looked down at your bare arms and legs, noticing the goosebumps forming as the crisp night air rolled over the lake. You let out a small shiver. "Oh. A little, yeah. Guess we'll have to head down and start that fire, huh?"
"Hold on." Before you could even think about climbing down yourself, Valko’s massive, sleeveless arms wrapped securely around you. He pulled you tight against his chest and stepped off the branch, dropping down to the forest floor with impossible grace. "I'll make sure you stay warm."
"Thank you," you breathed. Clinging to him like this felt natural now. He was so incredibly warm, his thick fur ears brushing lightly against your hair, and he smelled so good that a small, secret part of you desperately didn't want to leave his hold.
Valko gently set you down on a comfortable camping chair before reaching into the gear and handing you a thick blanket. "Stay warm and watch the master work."
He turned back to you and gave you a confident, playful wink. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, a fond smile tugging at your lips. "Master, huh? You got any credentials to show for that title?"
"What are you talking about?" Valko laughed, a rich, booming sound as he gestured down to his own hyper-toned, powerful frame. "Look at me."
You openly eyed him, letting your gaze linger on his broad shoulders and the tight compression shirt. "I'm looking, and I ain't seeing any credentials, Chairman. You just look like a wolf CEO to me."
He crouched down by the stone fire pit, gathering the kindling. "Wolves belong in the woods."
You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your thighs as you watched him work. "But you're always tucked away in a corporate office."
"That's because you're there," he murmured. Valko paused, looking over his shoulder directly at you. In the dim twilight, you could see those striking golden-yellow eyes glowing with a soft, intense warmth, and a light, boyish blush was dusting his cheeks as he smiled.
Your breath hitched, your heart doing a sudden backflip at his honesty. But before you could even attempt a witty response, WHOOSH!
The kindling caught a sudden, massive gust of oxygen, and the fire roared to life with a fierce, dramatic explosion of light. Startled by the sudden blast of heat, the great, terrifying Alpha leader let out a tiny yelp and fell straight backwards onto his bum. His plush wolf ears instantly pinned flat against his head in shock, and his big, fluffy tail swished wildly in the dirt as he scrambled to look composed.
You stared at the blazing fire, then at the billionaire CEO sitting flat on the ground looking bewildered, and burst into a fit of loud, unstoppable laughter.
"Well!" you gasped out between giggles, wiping a tear from your eye. "You certainly made me eat my words! That is an incredibly impressive fire, Valko."
Valko huffed a little, an amused, attractive smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, little bunny," he murmured, pushing himself up from the dirt and stepping back over to your chair. "Just you wait."
You tilted your head back, looking up at him. "Oh? Are you expecting me to mess up?"
"There's still time," he teased.
You hummed a laugh as he crouched down directly in front of you, bringing those glowing golden-yellow eyes level with yours. "Evil wolf."
"I am," he whispered, his smirk widening.
You couldn't resist. You reached your hands out of your blanket and playfully fussed his wolf ears, scratching the base until a soft, helpless smile broke across his face. Valko unconsciously turned his head, pressing his nose against your wrist to take a deep, grounding sniff. You had gotten so used to his constant scent-checking by now that it just felt natural.
"I'll make dinner," you offered, shifting in your chair.
He looked up at you through his dark lashes. "Are you sure? I can do it."
"Well," you chuckled, gesturing behind him, "when your tail wags as hard as it does at the mere thought of me cooking, I think I should be the one in charge of the stove."
Valko let out a dramatic groan, glancing over his shoulder at his big, fluffy tail, which was currently sweeping the dirt in happy, rapid circles. "Traitor," he muttered to his own appendage. "Constantly giving me away."
Slipping off your seat, you gathered the fresh ingredients and aromatic spices, tossing them into a camping pot over the fire. You let the flavours deepen and fuse with the meat, filling the night air with a mouthwatering aroma. While it simmered, you and Valko sat close together by the crackling flames, chatting, laughing, and sharing stories. The cosiness made it feel less like a business research trip and more like a real couple on a romantic getaway.
Once it was ready, you served up the plates, sitting close enough that your shoulders brushed. You watched him closely as he took his first bite. "Is... is it okay?"
Valko nodded vigorously, his eyes lighting up. "It's incredible. Who knew a little bunny like you could cook like this? Guess this wolf doesn't need to teach you a single thing about meat."
You reached over and playfully pinched his cheek, wiggling his face back and forth. "Cheeky."
He let out a low laugh, completely melting into the touch and nuzzling his jaw affectionately against your palm. "I am. So, keep rubbing my cheek."
"I gotta eat, Valko," you tickled his cheek one last time before pulling away.
"Hurry up, then."
You pouted at him. "Bossy."
His golden eyes softened with pure adoration as he watched you eat. "I am."
After finishing up, Valko insisted on cleaning the dishes, leaving you to relax. Before long, a heavy, comfortable tiredness began to wrap around you. You sat together by the dying embers for a bit longer, your hand lightly petting his ears and caressing his cheek as he contentedly nuzzled into your side. Noticing your eyelids lagging, Valko knew it was time to move to the tent.
"We should rest," he mumbled gently against your hand, his voice thick with a sleepy, deep care. "It's been a long day."
You hummed in agreement, sleepily shuffling over to the cosy tent. You climbed inside, found your sleeping bag, and curled up, already hovering right on the edge of dreams. Outside, you listened to the quiet rustling of Valko checking the perimeter and putting out the fire before he unzipped the tent and crawled in. He zipped the flap shut, plunging the space into darkness, and settled into his own bag.
For a while, the tent was completely still. But as the midnight chill rolled over the lake, the quiet fabric of your sleeping bag began to rustle as you started to shiver.
Valko’s voice calling your name cut through the dark, deep, sleepy, and heavy with protective instinct. "Are you cold?"
You rolled over to face the silhouette of his massive frame. "Yeah. It's really cold tonight."
He shifted closer, his glowing yellow eyes seeing you perfectly clearly in the pitch-black. "I have an idea. We can join our sleeping bags together. I run very hot... but only if you want to."
You gave a hard, nervous gulp, but the sheer chill in the air made the choice easy. You nodded in the dark. "Yes. Let's do it."
Valko moved with practised, efficient grace. He unzipped both of your bags and zipped them together into one large, shared space. To him, this was an absolute dream come true. To not only sleep next to his fated mate, but to share a sleeping bag? His inner wolf was howling with joy.
Before he could even find the words to ask you to move closer, you eagerly slipped across the space, pressing your cold body completely flush against his massive, radiating chest.
Valko’s breath hitched, and he instantly wrapped his arms securely around you. One large hand cradled the back of your head, pulling you securely into his shoulder, while his other hand gently rubbed your back to chase away the chill.
"You should be heating any moment now," he murmured softly into your hair, his chin resting on your head. "How are you feeling?"
"Better. Thank you so much," you whispered, inhaling deeply against his chest. He was so incredibly warm, so impossibly soft, and he smelled absolutely lovely. He didn't just smell like cedarwood anymore; he smelled like home. Like a safe, loving house you come home to in the dead of autumn and winter after an exhausting day. He was everything you wanted, and everything you needed in life.
"I'm glad," Valko murmured, his voice wrapping around you like a blanket. "I'm always here for you."
He leaned down slightly to check on your face, but the intense heat, comfort, and his touch had already lulled you into a deep, peaceful slumber. Sensing your even, relaxed breathing, a wave of happiness washed over him. Knowing that he could give you this much comfort was everything he had ever wanted.
Every single day, he was getting closer to you. This trip had been a massive leap forward, and as he held you tight in the dark forest, the billionaire werewolf smiled, completely content to hold his fated mate for the rest of the night.
It was the most innocent thing. You and Zayne had decided a trip to a nearby park would do everyone some good, so you went. Carrying your seven-year old with you, or rather she was running about while Zayne struggled to catch up.
For now though, she was content to hold onto your hand, just as your little family stopped before a foodtruck carrying quite the large dessert menu. Ever a glutton for sugar, Zayne stepped up to order, while you and Zia went to sit.
Then you made the mistake of turning around to help Zayne carry the food.
"Red. . ."
You and Zayne don't pay too much attention to Zia talking like this while on your walk. She's in the little stages of childhood where she had both the amusing and embarrassing habit of repeating every interesting thing to her.
"Shiny," she said last week, pointing to a magnificently bald man that caught (or rather blinded) her eye.
"Pegin!" she cried yesterday when she was watching a nature documentary with Zayne.
And now, amidst the sea of different people, her eyes zeroed in on the man who towered over most, minding his own business.
"Red." she parroted, now raising a hand as her eyes met with the man's.
Normally when children (who weren't his) saw him, Sylus imagined curiosity and amusingly, fear. Children were curious creatures, audacious as well, but normally with one little upturn of his lips or even the slightest narrow of their eyes, they'd remember how small they were and go back running to their parents.
This one however had been following him for a few minutes now.
"Red." he heard again, now seeing the little girl standing before him, eyes glazed with what he can only describe as wonder.
That was a first.
"Where are your parents?" was the first thing he asked, like a normal adult.
Meanwhile you and Zayne were freaking out, feeling like the worst parents ever.
"Where did she go?!"
"She couldn't have gone far, take a few deep breaths."
"How are you so calm?!" you snapped back, barely letting the guilt cling as your eyes darted around. Zayne didn't push back, knowing this wasn't the time.
Then you both heard it.
Loud, desperate wailing in the voice of your precious daughter. Along with her, the unimpressed face of Sylus, who had a hand raised, wisps of red and black suspending Zia in the air before he directed her back into Zayne's awaiting arms.
"She wandered off." he offered simply as explanation, stepping towards you, both mirth and something expectant now glinting in his eyes.
🌷 NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR
Chat this MIGHT be the start of a LADs fam series. Idek how the logistics would work it's just the guys with their own kids (theyre all girl dads) sometimes interacting. That's it. Expect something for either Raf or Valko soon
Zia is not aging in reverse btw I just have her be whatever age I feel like it lmao
comments and reblogs are appreciated !!
Sargonna Persepolis @animegamerfox - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
