Okay , so , here’s my request:
Michael and the reader are dating . They feel the safest when they are with each other. While on vacation in Scotland , they take tours of castles there and look at the scenery before going back to his vacation house . While laying in bed talking and laughing , he presents her with a necklace with his initial on it . Thanks in advance.
sorry if this took long, i had fun writing this and i decided to go with bad era, i hope i did this how you wanted it , enjoy x
ִֶָ۶ৎ˖ִ ˚ 1987 || bad era || bf!michael.j x gf!reader ִֶָ۶ৎ˖ִ ˚
ִֶָ۶ৎ˖ִ ˚ cw: kissing, tickling, etc.
That's all you've been able to see for the past 20 minutes, since Michael insisted on keeping everything a surprise.
“Can I see yet?” you ask eagerly, your hands lifting slightly to try to lower his large palms from covering your eyes. He loved surprising you. It was one of your favourite things about him. Except you were painfully impatient most of the time. He was a tease on purpose.
“Not yet,” he chuckles softly, you can feel his body close behind yours as he continues to carefully guide you forward. A soft whine leaves you, desperate to at least see sunlight. It doesn't take a genius to know he's grinning. Cruel.
“Michael, we have been walking forever,”
“Be patient, baby.” he soothes finally coming to a stop. “You ready?” Michael bites his lip in anticipation.
“Yes, yes-“ His hands slip away from your eyes and you’re immediately met with a wash of sunlight. You blink against the brightness until the blur begins to settle and the view before you finally comes into focus.
Tall grey stone towers rose above rolling hills of green and drifting mist. Turrets and spires dressed in ivy stretched towards the sky, while narrow stained-glass windows caught the sunlight.
It looked like the sort of tower a princess would spend her days gazing out from, waiting for some prince brave enough to climb the walls below. You were a sucker for fairytales—everyone knew that. Some called it childish. Most did. But Michael never saw it that way. He loved them too, the magic, the stories, the idea that something ordinary could turn into something far more beautiful if you just believed in it long enough.
“Michael-“ you can't find the words. A huff of excitement leaves your lips as they stretch into a big toothy grin.
“Surprise,” he hums, “Magical right?” his hands settle on your hips as he stands behind you still.
Magical was an understatement. You’d dreamed of visiting a castle more times than you could count, always letting it slip out in careless little rambles you never thought much of. You never imagined Michael would actually remember them… let alone bring you to one.
You don’t move—you can't. Only being able to take in the castle’s dreamy atmosphere. You feel him shift from behind you taking your smaller hand in his now to pull you forward breaking you from your fanatic stare.
“If you think the outside's nice you should try inside.” he pulls you along leading the way. The whole area was empty, it was like michael to book the area so it didn't interfere, because as much as he loved his fans, you always came first. “Inside??” you gasp.
“Yes, angel. Inside, come on,” he laughs now, soft and airy.
Entering the castle, you can smell the history clinging to the stone, like it’s been soaked into every wall over centuries of candlelight and flame.
“You deserve it.” He brushes you off, looking around the large room, though you feel his hand give a gentle squeeze.
You both wander through the castle, looking at old paintings and ornate sconces lining the stone walls. Michael drifts ahead, stopping by a huge doorway that stretches up far above him, the scale of it almost swallowing him whole.
You can’t help but giggle, pulling out your camera as he glances back and pulls a stupid face just in time. Click. “Hey—take a normal one,” you scold with a laugh. “I can’t frame that, Michael.”
It’s said lightly, all fondness in your voice, because you already know you’ll probably frame it anyway. Michael rolls his eyes, but the familiar charming smile slips back onto his face as you lift the camera again. He jogs lightly back over to you, taking the camera gently from your hands.
“I want one of you too,” he says, no joke, no smile. “Something I can take with me on tour.” He presses his lip between his teeth, like he’s trying to keep the moment light, but it doesn’t quite hide the way he looks at you—like he’s already thinking about missing you. Cute.
After hours spent wandering winding halls and spiralling staircases, you and Michael have something to eat before finally make your way back to the hotel he booked overlooking the Highlands. Michael guides you to the suite his hand resting on the small of your back.
Upon entering the room, the mood shifts. You can’t quite explain it, but you feel it immediately.
Michael trails off toward the en-suite bathroom, leaving you standing in the middle of the suite.
“Get comfortable, baby. I’ll just be a second,” he murmurs before closing the door behind him. His gaze flicks around the room once before he slips into the bathroom, as though checking everything is exactly where it should be. Typical
The room arranged in advance.
A small smile touches your lips as your fingers brush over the dark wooden furnishings. Of course Michael would disappear the moment you started noticing everything. He’d never been very good at accepting praise. You drop your bag at the end of the bed. The dim lighting softens everything, wrapping the suite in an intimate warmth. Your eyes land on a bouquet of lilies in a vase on a small round table.
A fond flush rises to your cheeks as you pick one from the arrangement, bringing it to your nose to breathe it in. You drift toward the window, twirling the stem between your fingers, feeling like a princess in a tower—only this time, you didn’t have to wait for a prince.
“Michael? You okay?” you call out, impatient despite yourself.
“Just a second!” he calls back from behind the door.
You pout slightly, still smiling. “You know I hate waiting.” You hear him laugh on the other side.
Staring into the night sky through the window, you barely notice Michael coming up behind you again. “Y/n,” he says softly, his voice lower now—an octave meant only for you, away from cameras and spotlights.
You hum in response, turning your head slightly, feeling his breath on your neck.
“I’m trying to figure out a way to say this—”
You turn fully to face him, catching the faint red creeping up his neck. A smirk tugs at your lips as you assume it must be some kind of prank. He always did things like that. And what else had he been doing in the bathroom for so long?
“What?” he asks, letting out a soft breath of amusement
Your smug expression doesn’t fade as you shrug. “Nothing…”
He gives a small, confused smile and sits down beside you, gently taking the flower from your fingers and setting it aside. You tilt your head, crossing your arms slightly, still watching him. “I’ve got you all figured out, Michael.”
He freezes for a brief moment, swallowing. You've seen that nervous face all before.
You poke him immediately. “That face tells me everything I need to know!” you exclaim. “I’m not falling for it this time.” Your fingers jab lightly at his torso—right where you know he’s ticklish.
“Hey—stop it—” he laughs, collapsing backwards onto the bed.
“I don’t trust you!” you continue, grinning as you keep poking at his sides. “You’re always up to something.” You carry on mercilessly as his loud, infectious laughter fills the room
“Stop— you’re being silly—” he breathes between laughter, trying weakly to catch your hands. Eventually, he’s laughing too much to fight it, and you ease off, satisfied.
The moment settles for a second. Then your eyes catch something. A piece of paper slips from his pocket as he shifts. “Oh?” you start, reaching for it. “Ohh so this is the big—”
“No— I—” he sits up fast. “You weren’t meant to see that.” The laughter is gone from his voice now. His face burns red as he looks away, suddenly unable to meet your eyes. “This wasn’t supposed to go like this…”
Looking down, you unfold the crumpled paper.
For your two-year anniversary.
The realisation lands slowly.
He’s always been like this—careful, thoughtful, a perfectionist in ways that made even love feel like something he wanted to get right down to the last word.
And somehow, you’d caught it before he was ready.
Flustered. Honest. Completely undone in a way he never lets the world see. And instead of feeling like you ruined anything. All you feel is warmth. Because nothing about this could ever feel more perfect than him.
Still maybe a little guilt.
“Michael, baby… It’s beautiful.” You cup his cheek, gently turning his face toward yours. Your thumb brushes softly against his lower lip as you hold his gaze.
He leans in instinctively, kissing you—gentle, slow, and sweet.
When he pulls back, his voice is quiet. “Yeah?”
You brush his curls back again, your gaze catching on his warm, brown eyes for a moment longer than you mean to, smiling now, “Really.”
His expression softens completely before he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small box. He opens it. Inside is a delicate white gold necklace, his initials hanging from it in a soft, elegant curve.
“Happy anniversary, angel,” he says quietly. “I wanted you to have somethin’… that you can take with you while I’m on tour.”
“Only fair I give so you somethin’ too.”
© ᥲρρᥣᥱᥴhᥱᥱs𝟹 || 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘴. 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘴: 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘢𝘥, 𝘢03, 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘵𝘤. 𓂃۶ৎ
