hear me out... mlm overstimulation and breath play, but with weed smoke instead of asphyxiation, with Jabber... maybe...perhaps?
Ahh!! I know you’re suggesting Jabber but as soon as a I read anything relating to smoke, I thought of Enjin. Why not both? Ihopethatsokay
All I see is Red Lights
cw: 18+ (duh), x male!reader, breathplay, overstim, drug use (marijuana), praise, dirty talk, anal sex, safe sex
-> characters: Enjin, Jabber
Each of them know just how to tip you over the edge <3
Jabber
The back of your neck is grabbed in Jabber’s large palm. His big, purple irises are dark with lust— and amusement. His cock is bullying your spasming walls one thrust after another. It’s relentless, it’s greedy, and it’s perfect.
“Jabber,” The ache in your abdomen pulls a whine from your lips.
“Nuh uh.” Jabber drawls before inhaling a deep lungful of smoke. “Hold out for me, yeah?”
His grip on your thigh keeps you firmly in place underneath him. The view of him from down here is breathtaking. The concentration laced between his eyebrows paired with the bliss dancing along his features is enough to have your cock chubbing up once more.
You throw your head back, fingers gripping the sheets underneath you to further ground your trembling form. The stickiness on your pelvis is only slightly uncomfortable, though you’re under the impression Jabber seems to like it. Of course he would. “I can’t. ‘S too much. Too much, baby.”
Jabber hums lowly, leaning down and giving you a mischievous glare before exhaling an impressive cloud of smoke into the distance between you both.
The hand which once held your head in place now grips your face in a three-finger grip. He shines a toothy grin down at you and watches your eyes bolt shut at the sudden gesture. Then, comes the coughing fit. “I’m sure you know that makes it worse.”
Your coughs are violent and throaty. Tears prick your eyes and you pull in a deep breath of air in a failed attempt to fill your lungs with oxygen. The plowing inside of you doesn’t ease up— in fact, it seems to speed up. The headboard bangs against the wall loudly. Luckily, the distance between the houses on your block are quite great.
Wrapping your fingers around Jabber’s forearm, you blink up at the culprit of your deprivation of air. “Y-you asshole.”
Jabber shrugs, “I am what I eat, right?” He pulls out of your glistening hole only to plunge back in. The melody of his hips against you is a loud, filthy song. His movements as controlled as they are quick. You won’t admit it out loud, but Jabber is fucking good at this. “Catch your breath, baby. I gotta hit it one more time.”
You would roll your eyes if you weren’t so sensitive it hurts. His thumb caresses your jaw gently in much contrast to everything else he’s doing. It’s his way of comforting you. “Okay,” You nods subtly, “I can do it.”
“You can do it.”
*~•~*
Enjin
“Shit,” Enjin huffs out a chuckle, watching as your form trembles above his. His large palm squeezes your hip and holds you upright while he stares into the glossy orbs that are your eyes. “Just like that. Atta boy.”
You bite down on the inside of your cheek to conceal the pants and whimpers threatening to escape. Your thighs quiver around Enjin’s. How long does he expect you to keep this up?
There’s a hand on the back of your neck, then you’re pulled down so you’re just inches away from his face. His eyes are low and a soft red hue. His yellow irises stare back into yours. You’d shy away if you weren’t fucking yourself to another orgasm in his lap.
“That’s it. Like taking that dick, don’t you?” The corner of his mouth lifts. “Yeah, you do. Look at you, already so eager for another nut.”
You retreat into the crook of his neck. “Enjin!” He’s so fucking vulgar, and what for?
“Aw, I’m sorry. C’mere.” Enjin kisses your cheek before biting down on your bottom lip. “Say ahh.”
His hips snap against you, jostling your body above him much quicker than it was previously. Your fingers dig into the couch to ground yourself. Without a second thought, you part your lips.
A thick cloud of smoke invades your space. Immediately, you flinch and let out a cough. One turns to another then another. It had come in contact with your eyes which caused you to bolt them shut.
Enjin doesn’t allow you to catch your breath before he’s thrusting back into your sensitive, spent body. His fingers grip your jaw, “Look at me, baby.”
So you do. Your chest rises and falls heavily, still singed from the smoke.
“Catch you breath. We still have the rest of the night.”
summary: clark doesn’t like his teeth, but you do.
word count: 2.6k
contains: fluff & suggestive themes. friends to lovers!!!!! clark and reader share insecurities (his teeth, her weight). reader knows clark is an alien. lots of banter/humor, some sassy and shy clark. unaddressed tension. first kiss, first confession tropes. biting kink if you squint. slipped an x files mention in there #iwanttobelieve. *no use of y/n
a/n: Holy fucking yes thank you anon.
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“What are you doing?”
Clark peered down at you with a bemused and crinkled brow. He felt the unusual tingle of your pointer finger pressing on his canine.
With your head in his lap, your arm was extended all the way out to reach his mouth. It was not as if you were hiding your curiosity. You pressed on the tooth, feeling the smooth curve and the tiny point that undoubtedly slotted into the lower set below like a puzzle piece when he smiled. The tooth was strong, it did not budge– not that it should, but you were just observing. Cataloguing.
“I’m feeling your teeth.”
Clark snickered softly and swatted your hand away, making you pout. “I can see that. I’m asking why.”
“You asked what.”
“Don’t be a smartaleck.”
You grumbled softly and let him hoist you up by the hand, and you sat beside him on the couch in his loft, eyes shamelessly redirecting to his mouth again. “I like your teeth.”
Clark’s cheeks flooded with color as you stared him down. He knew very well your predilection for bluntness– being your best friend had helped him build an immunity. But every now and then, your straightforward mouth made him clam up. You didn’t seem to care when the things you said sounded almost… flirtatious. If he could even suggest such a thing. You? Flirt with him? Never. In his dreams, maybe.
“Stop looking at me like that,” you tilted your head, smiling softly. “What, is it so unbelievable someone could find your teeth cute?”
Clark felt a drip of saliva catch the back of his throat, and he coughed softly, flustered beyond his means. “I mean, a little. They’re not exactly straight– wait, cute?”
You shrugged, laughing softly. Your attention drew back to the television for a moment, where Fox Mulder was sticking his finger in some unknown substance on television while Dana Scully judged him from afar. A glimmer appeared in your eyes, and you recited in the best Mulder-voice you could muster: “I think it’s remotely plausible that someone might think your teeth are hot.”
Clark didn’t choke on spit this time. He just choked. “Huh?”
You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder, pointing at the television. “Oh, come on! That’s his line!”
“You’ve seen this show way more than I have, how am I supposed to remember?”
“In the first season, remember? When they’re talking about how the Lone Gunmen liked Scully, and he says that same thing to her? It was a famous clip! Seriously?”
Clark shook his head, offering you the same expression he did each time you mentioned a random factoid from some show he never cared enough to watch– two raised eyebrows and a playful purse of the lips, suggesting either a statement of You lost me or Only you would know that. It was almost as infuriating as it was cute.
“Not only is this show awesome, but I watch it because you are a stupid alien, and it gives me great advice on how to deal with you!”
“They never actually see the aliens on this show, dummy, and I’m not green with big eyes.”
“I’m just saying, it might do you some good to pay attention to–”
“Good lord! All I’m saying is I don’t remember the part you’re talking about!”
“You’ve definitely seen it before.”
“I’m sure I have. Now, going back–”
“Clark, there’s nothing wrong with your teeth!”
The farmboy chuckled and gave a different look now (an Are you serious?) and crossed his arms. “I never had braces. They’re all crooked. Like, they all tilt inward– it’s weird! I’ve always hated them.”
A tiny twinge tugged at your heartstrings. How could Clark Kent hate a thing about himself? Surely he knows who he is and what he looks like. The man has been your closest relationship for too long. All you saw when you looked at him was gorgeous.
“That’s so sad,” you frowned.
Clark laughed awkwardly and scooped up the popcorn bowl from the table, placing it in your lap. He picked at a few kernels. “It’s not supposed to be.”
“Yeah, but it is,” you angled closer again, and Clark had to stabilize the bowl before you capsized the contents all over the couch.
“Woah! Easy.”
“Your teeth are one of my favorite things about you. How could you hate them?”
Clark crunched cluelessly. “What, I’m supposed to magically cure an insecurity just because you like it?”
“Yes!” you ordered, brushing a piece of hair from your eyes.
“It doesn’t work like that and you know it. How many times have I told you that you’re pretty exactly as you are, but you still insist that you’re fat?”
A mauve tide rushed your cheeks, and you looked away. “That’s different.”
“No it’s not.”
“Yes, it is,” you mumbled, putting the popcorn in his lap so you could tug your blanket higher.
A slow guilt began to bleed in Clark’s gut. He was just trying to make a point, but this was not the direction it was supposed to take. “Hey…”
“Your insecurity is like– it makes you special. Unique. Nobody else can smile like you can. It’s not like that for me. It doesn’t make me special, it makes me… unlikeable.”
Clark didn’t think twice about tossing the popcorn bowl back onto the table and inching closer, collecting your hands in his. The skin was rough from his farm chores. Lucky for your set of chubby fingers, he could still enclose his palms over them like a glove. “That’s not true, bunny. You’re not unlikable.”
“Well, I’ve never been asked out, so I think that makes me pretty unlikable.”
“You’ve never been asked out because I’m always looming behind you like a statue,” Clark chuckled, coaxing your gaze towards him again with a finger under your chin. “Guys aren’t really into potential girlfriends who come with a guard dog attached.”
Your cheeks burned as you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. “I never asked you to do that.”
“It’s not necessarily something I can help. I just… don’t like anybody for you. They’re all stupid. And mean.”
“Real mature,” your lips curled upwards a smidge.
“You know what I mean. Nobody deserves you,” he explained. “You knock every other girl out of the park. You know you do.”
Inside your chest, your heart was beating rapidly against your ribs. Sometimes you wondered if he knew how inescapable his clutches on you were. Not only was there no getting over him, but you had lost all will to. All you had ever known was what it felt like to be in love with Clark, and it didn’t help when he grew up to be the exact kind of guy you always dreamed he would. It was textbook torture, sitting here with his thoughtful hands stroking your wrist and his gleaming eyes boring into you like magical Kryptonian ice crystals. Stupid alien face– it was so fucking handsome.
You huffed softly, letting go of the reflexive breath that sucked your stomach in. It was an uncontrollable habit. You saw Clark smiling at you, and for all the embarrassment he made you feel, you chose to pick up the ball. Game on.
“I think your teeth are adorable,” you said. “Y’know, how sharp they are and the way they curve in like that. I love them.”
Clark blinked at you, trapped by the word love. Love, love, love, that was all his heart and ears and lungs and brain were hearing. Love, love, love, she loves my teeth, I love her.
His hands were still wrapped around your wrists, but you lifted one and smoothed a finger beneath his top row again. You mapped each ridge, collecting a bit of wetness as the pad grazed the thin edges. His breath was warm on your finger. It smelled like popcorn.
“Thanks,” you murmured.
“For what?”
“Saying those nice things about me.”
Clark nodded softly, smoothing his hand up your arm. He had no idea what he was doing. You could both be affectionate here and there, but not so decisively or slowly. Not so methodically. “They’re true things.”
“You really think I’m pretty?” You blurted. Well, not a blurt. A soft blurt. A low one. A bleat, maybe. Nervous as a sheep.
Clark did not think. He only nodded.
You brushed your finger over his chin, and with him so close, you could see the way a few of his lashes entwined with each other, clinging together in anticipation. You envied their job. You wish you could brush his eyes, keep them clean, shield them from the sun. They got to live on his face all day. What you wouldn’t give.
“You really like my teeth?” He asked.
You nodded, too, chewing the inside of your cheek. “I love your teeth. I love a lot of things about you.”
Clark could not help the compulsion. “Like what?”
You would’ve preferred to be more eloquent, but your mind was leaving you at the moment. Clark’s hand was now resting at your side, tucked between the soft rolls of your back and squeezing carefully, as if he was curious about the springiness of the flesh and had been wondering what it felt like for a while. So you rambled.
“Your hair. It sort of flips behind your ears, and I always found that cute. Your nose, too, when you get annoyed with me it flares. Sometimes when you smile really big your hairline moves up, that’s a good one– oh, and when I really piss you off, you kind of do this thing where you tilt your head like a dog hearing a whistle, and every time you do it I can't help but laugh because it’s just so funny! Like that one time we got burgers, and I swore I didn’t want a milkshake so you only got one, but then I begged for a sip and you wanted to kill me? You did it then, and I just wanted to kiss you, it was that cute.”
As you trailed off suddenly, hearing your words echoing back and flushing a medically concerning shade of red, Clark’s ears rang. He felt like he was stuffed full of cotton. I just wanted to kiss you, it was that cute. Love, love, love, love, love…
“Yeah?” was the best he could do. It was breathless and full of disbelief, but he at least said it aloud.
You winced a bit. “...Yes?”
Clark nodded slowly, and then a bit harshly, just trying to be sure he heard you right. He had just heard a few words that, in another universe, he would pay money to hear. No, in this universe. In any universe. He squeezed your side again, and when no response came to him, he just stared at you, brainless and lost.
You swallowed thickly and reached out again, figuring that if this was the final chance, you wanted to touch those teeth one last time. Your thumb tugged his bottom lip down and you poked your pointer on the tip of his lower canine. What was left of Clark’s dignity leaked out then, and he made the swift decision to kiss your knuckle. And then your wrist. And then your cheek, and your chin, until he was hovering over your mouth, breathing that popcorn breath against your tongue, which would have been disgusting were it not your very best friend Clark Kent who you had been having undisclosed dreams about since age eleven.
“I like a lot of things about you too, bunny.”
“Like what?” you whispered, not moving an inch.
“Like the way your nose twitches when you’re nervous. That's why I call you bunny, did I ever tell you that?”
Your eyebrow furrowed, and for a split second, you forgot what was actually happening in lieu of a new image. “It does?”
“Yeah. You just did it just now.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. I saw you.”
“I think I would know if I–”
Clark’s hand slipped under the hem of your t-shirt to feel the burning skin beneath, and the welcome touch had you shutting up in surprise. Your surrendering face exhibited the sign of a tiny little twitch on the right side of your nose, which Clark kissed instantly, as if pinning it down. “Right there.”
“That… isn’t fair,” you wheezed, heart hammering.
“What isn’t fair is that you’re not kissing me,” he whispered against your lips. “I’m waiting, you know.”
Part of you wanted to smack him for teasing at a time like this, but the rest of you was bubbling over with the overwhelming, all-consuming sense of victory. You met him in the space of an inch, pressing your lips to his open mouth, feeling for the very first time what it was like to kiss the love of your life.
Clark’s teeth were sharp and warm under your tongue. He hauled you into his lap and laughed as your eager hands roamed his face and neck, and it seemed that you tilted your head left to right without any penchant for rhythm or pace, simply smushing yourself against him in a desperate attempt to swallow him whole. He used said teeth to nip at your mouth, making you shiver, and you performed with absolutely zero decorum, swiping your tongue over his canines, tangling it with his own, sneaking your fingers into his hair to tug him closer and threaten suffocation. Every time he squeezed your hips or pressed his palms to your tummy, it spurred you further. It was the best kiss he’d ever had.
He didn’t give up until the action exhausted you. Having kissed yourself stupid until all you could manage was leaning your forehead against his and panting softly, you began nosing him like a kitten, pressing closer and closer into the hard lines of his body in some pseudo-hug disguised as a selfish need to feel him against you. He laughed sweetly and tucked his fingers into your hair, feeling the strands and tugging, scratching the curve of your cranium.
“If I told you how long I’ve wanted to kiss you, you might kill me,” he teased.
“Bet it's not as long as I’ve been waiting for you to come around.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, come around? I’ve been in love with you since we were kids!” He pulled back, giving you an incredulous look.
You grinned mischievously and kissed his lips again, much less ambitious this time. You distracted him with, “Bunny, huh? All because of my nose?”
Clark tossed you down on the couch and crawled over you with a big, toothy grin. “Well, that and your body. Bunnies are chubby.”
You flushed profusely. “Clark!”
“What? I love it. I love you.”
As he laid on top of you and began to kiss you into the mattress, you fought against the desire to give right in, hands curling behind his ears. “I was being serious, I’m really insecure about that…” But as he hitched your knee over his hip and sealed your lips shut with a series of hungry smooches and a pair of wandering hands, your protests lost their necessity.
As he made his way down the curve of your neck, he mumbled, “You like my teeth enough to let me bite you, bunny girl? Won’t hurt you… just a little bite, maybe…”
“Jesus Christ,” you squeaked. The word no suddenly dissipated into thin air, as foreign as a new language, and as ridiculous an answer as anything. “Yes.” Then, you added for good measure, “It won’t turn me into an alien, will it?”
Clark peeked up at you, joy painted all over his face. “You should be so lucky.”
Synopsis: OTW!Michael meets a gorgeous woman who doesn’t seem to know who he is. A game of double Dutch and a lazy evening ensue
Content: Fluff, set after Michael asks his brothers to play twister, double Dutch, children. Cookout vibes
Word count: 1.5k
A.N. : my first ever time doing this guys, lemme know how I can improve pls 🥹 also if you want more?
June - Havynhurst, 1980
The sound of laughter echoed throughout the neighborhood. Reverberated off every person like rain falling through gutters.
Through it a lonely Michael walked, with an unopened box of twister tucked under his arm. Superstardom hadn't brought friends along with it, nor had it made his family any softer.
But, then again he was older, and so were they, twister was a dumb idea.
It was hot, to hot to walk aimlessly. The ground seemed to warp from the heat, cracks in the sidewalk only gaining leeway to expand further. Ants hid in their dirt homes, and birds dove into the nearest patch of water and shade.
Yet. Kids danced and jumped, and ran through a broken hydrant. As carefree as a camel lazying in the desert.
Micheal continued to walk, watching as everyone moved around him as though he was a random bloke. A bubble broken when a small kid, still growing in her too front teeth stood smack in front of him.
"Mister. can you play double dutch?" She'd asked, tilting her head, her toed up braids moved with her head, bobos clacking loud in the ears of someone whose whole life revolved around image — around curated perfection.
Double dutch. Sure he had seen some girls do it here in there when he was young, but play it? Jump both ropes? Michael laughed softly "No, I don't think i can."
The little smiled brighter, and turned on her heels, running off to where two kids were setting up the two ropes. But not before telling him to follow her.
"AUNTIE!" the girl squealed as she jumped on your back.
There a stood probably the most gorgeous woman Michael had ever seen, and she was turned around.
"I told you adults don't double dutch"
Michael just stood there, awkward as can be, twister still tucked under his arm. You turned around slowly, and stared at him like he wasn't Michael Jackson, the star since 5, no. He was a random man your niece brought to prove a point. "Tiffany get down."
A voice of heaven, or was that his imagination?
You stood, one hand on your hip, wearing a black ribbed tank top that stopped two inches above your belly button, and denim shorts that stopped an inch under. "Did she drag you over here to play double dutch?" you'd asked him with a smile.
Michael took a second before nodding softly, and before he could speak, you were. "You don't have to if you don't want to."
Tiffany ran back over from where she had been with her cousins, "No. you said adults can be better at double dutch than kids and hes the…" she paused, thinking of the science word you had taught her, but seven meant she had forgotten when not in the classroom.
"Variable" you helpfully chimed in for her, a laugh of your own bubbling up. A hand came up, pushing back your hair out o f your face as you looked to Tiffany.
Michael looked between the two of you, "I'll do it. Its nothing"
you looked over and smiled like he was doing you a favor, not like the Michael Jackson was standing in front of you. "Alright, well I'm Y/N and this is Tiffany"
His own small smile danced across his face, "Michael"
And that's how he ended up standing between two kids spread out, both holding either end of two ropes. You were sat on the curb, leaning back, your own sunglasses, much like his own, pulled down to watch.
"Now, be careful. and don't make me a liar." You said with a laugh as the kids began to circle the ropes, slow for the first timer. Once he even looked like he was getting it down they decided it as the perfect time to speed up the rope. All the children who were lazing around the house sat nearby to watch the show, all too young to recognize a celebrity.
Michael was intently focused on the game, watching down at the ropes, not listening to the children counting his jumps. 15 before one caught his ankle. He'd walked over a bit defeated, Tiffany had gotten 30, and he was apart of your team.
You just laughed, high fiving him. "You did great, you'll get em in round two huh?" you said patting his back on the way to your own turn.
Michael took your seat on the curb, where you had kicked your shoes off in preperation, and tied your hair up once with a band. "Ok now, don't show out". you said as the ropes started, no warm up for you.
The sun had begun to set by now, yet laughter was still the main sound he heard, looking around at all the little kids, sitting with juices and plates of food and snacks. All filing out of one backyard with chairs. Michael hadn't known such carefree joy. Kids with big Afros and cornrows, and girls with colorful clips and beads that knocked.
His attention turned back to you as a rhyme began.
"Policeman, policeman, do your duty,
Here comes Y/N."
You laughed again, louder as you began, a semi-natural, not your first rodeo but definitely not your thousant.
"And she's a cutie;
She can jump, she can twist,
But I bet she can't do this."
Michael blushed for you, clapping along with the children. As you jumped, a small kid curled into Michael's side, clearly tired. His hair was shaved down, and he looked more content than Michael's heart could fathom. Mini wife-beater stained with BBQ sauce and chip dust, a bottle of juice cradled in his hand.
The rope sped up as the kids voices died down, once at 20 jumps they picked back up again. Their voices drowning out the sound of your feet hitting pavement, the sound of the ropes spinning, the sound of your stacked jewelry jumping.
"Sailor, sailor do your duty,
Here comes Y/N, the American beauty,”
You decided to get a bit fancy as you neared thirty, moving your feet along with the children's voices, your laughter ringing out louder than any of the children (in Michael's ears at least).
"She can wiggle, she can waggle, she can do a split,
But she can’t wear dresses above her hips!"
The kids laughed loud, and louder when by 40 the rope caught your thigh. You walked off in mock defeat.
Towards Michael.
You picked the child up gently, "Kareem, go inside if your tired." You said setting the child down who groaned and stalked inside.
Michael's eyes never left you, especially not as you sat next to him.
"How was i?"
"You did good" His soft voice barely audible as the kids went back to playing with the entertainment off.
you nodded, slightly sweaty, "oh i never asked, you hungry? Daddy put some more stuff on the grill a few ago." your head tilted slightly, expecting his answer.
Michael nodded slightly, he'd been out all day. Thriller was set in motion, on top of OTW tours, practice ran long, and then he'd been with you the rest of the day.
you stood, dusting off your shorts, then reached out a hand to lead him into the backyard. The same once all the kids had been filing in and out of, where the older folks sat in plastic chairs, laughter ringing just as loud. You walked Michael toward the grill, past where your uncles were playing spades and rummy for change left in their pockets.
"Just over there," you half shouted over the music, pointing to a table off near the grill where foil pans sat. "Take whatever"
Michael felt your presence behind him as he grabbed a plate of food, a rather large one, per your aunts instance when she saw him grab nothing but a cheeseburger. Though she just eyed your solo burger.
Michael sat at the only empty spot of grass in the back, you followed naturally. Not a good look to leave your guest (even if your niece got him over here) all alone.
"Ya know," you started to break the spreading silence — your family having begun to pile out now that the street lights had been on for some time, small children with knocking beads and berets Michael stared at lifted in a sleepy daze back home — "You didn't do as bad at double as i thought you would've"
Michael laughed slightly, "Hey! I'll have you know i have great rhythm"
"Rhythm… right"
Michael turned, looking slightly offended. You just patted his arm, "How you gettin' home?"
He paused, snapped out of the haze of normalcy, of just living for the joy life gives. "I got my car just down the street" You nodded, thumb sucked in your mouth to get the food off as you reached over, grabbing a napkin. On it you wrote your number. "Call me, we never got to finish double dutch"
Your smile lit Michael's whole way home. The laughter, the easiness, the way he was Michael, just Michael. Not a single expectation was placed on him above keeping his manners. Not one performance needed when for a whole night. Your number pressed against him, tucked neatly into his pocket.
Content: In which Jackie brings you to Hayvenhurst to enjoy the pool, and there you meet a boy who already seems head over heels.
It was scorching hot outside, the type of heat that made you want to get irritated by every little thing, as the sun beamed against your skin. The sharp, penetrating warmth pricked against your skin, small beads of sweat starting to build up from the heat that pounded against you.
Your bathing suit fit just right, defining everything you wanted, as your shorts sat on your waist covering your lower half, your hair sitting perfectly, knowing that it would soon be disturbed by the chlorine-filled pool water.
The sound of the boys already playing around the poolside filled your ears; the splashes of the cooling pool somehow made you already feel cooled down, even if you weren't in it.
"It's so hot," you whined, slinging your towel over your shoulder, your sandals scraping against the hot concrete because you refused to pick up your feet.
"Pick up your feet, I hate that sound," Jackie said, leading you to the back, his face looking playfully annoyed.
"Well, they're my feet, not yours," you snapped back with a smile as you rounded the corner, revealing the pretty, crystal water that took up space in the underground pool, the laughter and bantering only becoming more prominent as they stopped to greet you, their bodies glistening from the pool water that dripped off of them and onto the sizzling concrete.
"Hey, guys!" You waved, tossing your towel onto the beach chair before settling the rest of your things on the chair, as the boys continued their banter. Slowly, you slipped your shorts off, tossing them onto the chair with the rest of your things. Jackie had already joined the rest of his brothers, splashing around in the pool, but then you noticed Michael. Out of all the times you'd come to visit, you'd rarely see him; usually, he was cooped up in his room writing lyrics or in his home studio, so it was almost rare when the two of you would cross paths, so you barely knew anything about him.
He lay in his pool floatie, drifting away from his brothers, landing on the way your legs looked exposed in the sun, your pretty skin glistening in the light. God, you were gorgeous, from your hair down to the pretty color painted on your toes. Oh, and that pretty smile that you flashed at him as you walked towards the pool.
His brothers were quick to flirt with you as always, flashing pretty smiles as they all tried their best to grab your attention. Honestly, he was jealous that his brothers had the courage to speak to someone as beautiful as you, his eyes glancing at the way you laughed, your hand placed on Jackie's shoulder as you shied away from the pool water that splashed onto your face.
Oh, how he wished you'd touch him like that, how he wished he'd make you laugh that way; he just wished he'd have the opportunity to talk to you.
You spent your time enjoying the pool before ultimately deciding that you'd rather bask in the sun.
“You guys are too much,” you laughed, standing to get out of the pool before walking over to your chair and lying down on your stomach before the sun became too overbearing, letting your eyes shut.
“Hey,” the voice was soft, almost too quiet, your eyes fluttering open before you turned over to see just who was talking to you.
“Oh, hi,” you smiled, looking at the boy who sat at the edge of the pool, his arms crossed as his lower body stayed submerged.
“You're really beautiful, you know that?” The words fell from his mouth before he even had time to process it. His skin felt hot, maybe it was because of the sun beating down on his skin, or maybe it was the fact that he really didn't mean for you to hear that.
“You think so?” You tilted your head, laughing at the sheer panic that was spreading across his face.
“Well, I know so.” It came out more quietly than he wanted it to, like he was trying his best to make sure his brothers didn't hear, so they wouldn't tease him for accidentally shooting his shot.
He watched as you walked to the end of the pool, sitting down before dipping your toes in, your body immediately cooling down.
“Your brothers don't seem as scary around pretty girls, just you?” You teased, watching as he looked around, trying not to look you in the eyes as he let out a nervous laugh.
“Yeah, I guess so, just don't tell them I said that.” He shook his head before laughing.
“Your secret's safe with me.” You held out your pinky, as he held out his own, wrapping it around yours, making a silent pact. The sound of splashes getting closer snapped the two of you out of your conversation.
“Aye, Mike, are you flirting or somethin’ over there?” Tito called out, his other brothers laughing along as they swam over, making giant splashes in the water, small bubbles floating to the top.
“Why don't you guys bother each other and leave us alone?” he shouted back before being completely splashed by Marlon, his fro now somewhat soaked, the curls becoming more defined as the water dripped individually from each clump of curls, making you laugh at the sight of them splashing around, somehow managing to get you tangled in the mess that was the sibling water fight before the decided enough was enough, heading inside to grab more snacks.
"They're too much sometimes" he spoke, his eyes suddenly shifting from you to the sudden emptiness of the pool. No more yelling, water splashing, just you two complete alone. Man, he didn't know what to do. Should he say something? what if he was too awkward? It was all so confusing.
You noticed the silence, but it wasn't akward, it was actually calming to not be in such a loud enviornment, but it wasnt like you disliked being around his brothers, you loved it, but there was something about the way that Michael spoke to you, so sweet, so calm.
You could tell he was nervous from the way he nervously fidgeted with his fingers, too embarassed to even look you in the eyes as he tried his best to rearange his words properly.
"You know you dont have to say anything, just being here with you is nice enough"
In which Steven Grant reads you a strange bedtime story as a late, unconventional form of aftercare.
˚ ༻⋆𓋹⋆༺˚
Tags: 18+; Steven Grant x Reader; No use of Y/N; Zero-stakes fluff; Reader's gender is not stated; Newly Dating AU. Just a quick one-shot ft. a tired Steven and Lucius Apuleius' The Metamorphosis.
Word Count: 1,300.
Warning(s): Nothing crazy here. Post-sex allusions. Mentions of Steven's scars from fighting.
˚ ༻⋆𓋹⋆༺˚
It's dark out. It's been dark out for hours. And he's still not asleep.
Although you knew getting into this that Steven has a self-proclaimed sleeping disorder, you weren't aware of its…seriousness. The cat-clock on the wall swishes its tail and says that it's about one in the morning.
It's partly empathy keeping you awake. Knowing that he's probably tired, but for whatever reason, insomnia keeps him up. Unable to surrender, to succumb to sleep. Maybe he's afraid to weird you out with whatever embarrassing symptoms he's hiding.
That's what you've assumed, anyway—this is only the fifth date, and the first time you've slept over.
The other thing keeping you awake is that he's left the lamp on.
He totally thinks you're out, though. And why wouldn't you be? The sweat on the back of your knees is still drying from possibly the most charged, enthusiastic sex you've ever had. You've come down from the high, went to the bathroom, drank some water. Got back into bed. Watched as he left the blankets and went somewhere else.
And you are tired now, buried beneath his blankets, surrounded by the scent of him—the scent of yourself. Maybe you should offer dry-cleaning in the morning. You could sleep.
But you're sort of pretending to be asleep so that you can watch him.
Steven's a sight. Dark curls tousled, glasses low on his nose, bent over a desk that miraculously hasn't broken from the sheer weight of every bit of one hundred heavy books stacked atop its surface. Though he politely put on a pair of pajama pants, you can imagine the flex of his thighs as he sits down. There's a few marks there, just above the curve of his shoulder blade—you have to squint to make it out—that signify your nails did, indeed, drag down his skin about half an hour ago.
There's scars there, too. Old ones, fresher ones. Different sizes and textures and depths. Littered about him. But that's probably none of your business on the fifth date.
You drag your gaze from his exposed back and try to see what he's actually doing. Reading, evidently, by the huge tome in his hands. Mumbling under his breath, reciting the words to himself.
It goes on like this. The cat-clock meows, alerting the flat that it's now one-thirty. Your eyes are getting heavy, breaths evening out. Steven is still manning the desk, thumbing over the next yellowed page.
"Hey," you say, and he startles. Looks over at you as though he forgot you were there. A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. "What're you doing over there?"
He blinks, focuses. Sits up and turns toward you, holding the book with one hand, vaguely gesturing with the other. "Apuleius," he says, voice low and rough with tired.
Obviously, he expects that word to mean something to you. So you try to assign it to something. "That's the book title?"
"Lucius Apuleius," Steven says. "Rhetorician, philospher, studier of Plato. Right overachiever, that one."
"And author," you assume, pointing a finger outside of the blanket's warmth. "What's it called?"
That's all you had to ask before Steven pads across the floor, book in hand. He gives you an expectant look before you take the hint and scoot over, giving him ample room to sit beside you on the bed.
"This," he says enigmatically, "is The Golden Ass. 'Course, 'e'd call it The Metamorphosis. I've read it, like, a million times."
You're significantly more awake now. It's so easy to intrigue you when he's looking at you like that in the dim light, grinning, pushing his glasses to rest in his curls. Like he's letting you in on a secret.
A little hard to believe he's the same guy that had you yelping into his pillow earlier.
Leaning up to support your head on a hand, elbow digging into the mattress, you take the bait. "So, what's it about?"
"Oh, I'll show you," he says, and leans his back onto the headboard. The book is fat with annotations and bookmarks and various reciepts poking from the pages. Bent and softened at the corners. "Can I—Actually, would you mind if I read some of it?"
"To me?" You ask, eyebrows raised, but it's a dumb question, and he stares at you until you find an answer. "Sure. That'd be nice. I might fall asleep, though."
"'S fine," Steven says, and he's about to open his mouth to say something, but you interrupt.
"Lay down and read?" You ask. A sort of late, unconventional after-care.
"Oh, sure, sure," he says, and gingerly slides under the blankets to join you, while keeping a respectful distance.
But you don't care for respectful distance unless he insists upon it. Once you're sure he's comfortably laying on his back, you move close enough so that you can rest your head on his shoulder. His collarbone digs into your skull, but you're not moving.
He stays still until you're satisfied. "Good, yeah?"
"Good," you agree, yawning into your fist. You place a hand over his chest, warmth radiating from him like a heater. His heartbeat under your fingertips thrums.
"Right, then," he says, and it's so amusing to you—how mild, how careful he's being, after what you've already done to one another tonight.
But it's not a bad feeling. You feel comfortable. Safer than you anticipated. And there's zero awkwardness in the air—it's the easiest thing in the world, to engage with Steven. If only you weren't so tuckered out.
Your thumb is resting on an ugly, purpleish bruise near his heart. But you don't stare.
"Apuleius," you prompt.
"Okay, well. The Golden Ass. I'll just, er, pick up where I left off."
And then it's not just the two of you laying in bed past midnight, but something else. His voice carries you somewhere old and far away. No stammers, no filler words. Familiar words roll off his tongue.
"For I 'ave never seen my 'usband's face," he recites softly, his accent biting off any harsher consonants."Nor do I know who or what 'e is; but only 'earing 'em by night, I endure a 'usband of an uncertain condition, and one that perpetually avoids the light of day."
You stifle another yawn and allow your muscles to relax. He hooks an arm around you, holding the book with both hands, angling it toward you so that you might follow along—but you don't register the text. Not at first, anyway, because Steven is speaking in English, and the book is written in what you can only assume to be Latin.
"I am, therefore, in your opinion, that 'e is some monstrous beast, who always terrifies me from be'olding 'em, and threatens some prodigious evil as the consequence of curiosity respecting his countenance..."
In some softer part of your mind, hazed with sleep, you wondered if Steven had ever read clunky, wordy stories such as this when he was a little boy, flashlight in hand, blanket overhead. It's such a tender thought about a guy you barely know—Carnally, sure. But emotionally? Personally?
This thought, if you remember it in the morning, is going to startle the fuck out of you.
Thankfully, Steven is more constant than your wandering mind. He grounds you to present.
"She is now full of speed, then dilatory; now bold, then fearful; now diffident, then angry, and what is the most wonderful of all…" Steven pauses, his chin brushing the top of your head. He let the words hang in the air, accompanied only by distant ambient nightlife. The tick, ticking of the cat-clock.
You close your eyes.
"In the same body, she loves the husband and hates the beast."
˚ ༻⋆𓋹⋆༺˚
you used to love your boyfriend, but after a few years he got mean and critical so you called for a break. he comes back after a few days and is acting different..
alien! boyfriend x reader
he's in your doorway, bag in hand, and you haven't seen him in four days. four days since you told him you needed space. four days since the door closed and you let yourself feel something close to relief.
he doesn't say anything. just looks at you with those eyes—dark, still, the same ones you fell in love with back when he used to watch you like you were the most interesting thing in any room.
he's watching you like that again now.
"may i enter your dwelling?" he asks.
his voice sounds careful. like he's selecting the words from a list.
you step back. let him in.
"i have been thinking," he starts.
here it comes, you think. the explanation. the defense. the way he'll reframe every cutting comment as honesty, every dismissal as exhaustion, every cold silence as you misreading him.
you've rehearsed your responses. you're ready.
"i think i have been doing it wrong," he says.
you look at him.
"the—" he pauses. something moves across his face. a hesitation you don't recognize. "the way i have been treating you. i have been reviewing the data. running comprehensive retrospective analysis. and i can see now that my behavior was—"
"reviewing the data," you repeat.
"thinking about it," he corrects, very quickly. "just. thinking. like humans do."
you stare at him.
"okay," you say slowly.
"i was critical," he says. "i found things to correct when it was not.. when the corrections were not requested. i understand now that this caused you significant emotional damage."
you've known him for years. he doesn't talk like that. he talks like someone who's never wrong about anything, who phrases observations as facts and facts as verdicts.
"are you okay?" you ask.
he blinks. one second too long. "i am functioning within normal parameters. what i mean is—" he stops. resets. "yes. i am okay."
"who did you talk to?" you ask. "while i was—while we were on the break."
"my male companions," he says.
you go very still.
"your-" you repeat. "your what?!"
"my companions. who are male. my—" he seems to be searching for something. casting around behind his eyes. "my bros."
the word comes out like he's never said it before in his life. like he learned it an hour ago and isn't sure where the emphasis goes.
"right," you say.
"they were very informative. they explained the dynamics of human pair bonding at length. we had an extremely productive discussion about your emotional needs and how i had failed to meet them adequately. one of them had a small beast on his lap the entire time and it stared at me without blinking and i found it—" he pauses. "i found it charming," he finishes, in the tone of someone who found it deeply threatening.
you open your mouth.
you close it.
"a beast," you say.
"a small. domestic. beast." he holds his hands apart approximately cat-width. "with orange fur. it made a continuous low-frequency sound from its chest cavity."
"a cat. it was a cat."
"yes," he agrees, with great relief. "yes. the cat. i knew that."
"what changed in four days?"
his expression does something enormous. theatrical. his jaw tightens, his eyes go distant, and he turns his head slightly toward the window like he's about to deliver news of a war.
"i could not bear it," he says, very gravely. "the separation from you was an agony i had not anticipated and could not calculate my way out of. i consulted my male companions. i sat with their beast. i stared into its eyes for a long time and it stared back and something shifted in me." he looks at you. "i do not want to lose you. so i went and i figured out how not to. i will do better. i am committed to doing better. this is my vow."
this is my vow.
you are going to need a moment.
"you're vowing?"
"i am." he reaches across the cushion and takes your hand, and his grip is warm and steady and so achingly familiar that your chest does something you weren't prepared for. "you are important to me. more important than i communicated. that was an error and i intend to correct it."
his thumb moves across your knuckles. once. deliberate.
later, you tell yourself. ask later.
you turn your hand over and hold his back.
"okay," you say. "vow accepted."
something moves through his face. relief, you think. or whatever the equivalent is, wherever he's actually from.
"excellent!" he grins, and closes his eyes as he starts to pepper kisses across your knuckles, and for just a second he looks so genuinely, overwhelmingly grateful that you decide, for now, not to ask anything else at all.
every wednesday was date night, one of you would plan date night and then the other would do the week after. you'd been planning date nights for two years, aswell as paying for them whenever he decided to show up.
"i found us a place," he announces, and shows you his phone. it's a steakhouse with 4.7 stars and a review that says great for special occasions!! that he has highlighted somehow.
he pulls your chair out when you arrive. stands there holding it with both hands like he's been rehearsing. you sit down.
the candle on the table gets forty seconds of his complete and total attention before you click your fingers and bring him back.
he orders what you order, you have to remind him he's allergic to mushrooms.
walking home he holds your hand and it's nice, it's really nice, until you notice he's slowly rotating your wrist to look at your fingers from different angles and has been doing it for half a block. "what are you doing..?"
"nothing," his response is so quick it almost gives you whiplash.
outside your building you stop and turn and he's already doing the face—jaw set, eyes very serious, like he's about to announce something grave and historic. you smile up at him and you lean in.
he takes a very large step backwards.
"what are you doing," he says, in a completely different tone than any he's used all evening. alert. wary. his eyes have gone very wide.
"i'm going to kiss you."
"you are going to—" he looks at your mouth. back at your eyes. "you are going to press your face against my face?"
"yes."
"aggressively."
"no. not aggressively."
he doesn't look convinced. he looks like a man running rapid calculations about exit routes. "my male companions did not mention this part.." he says.
"it's a kiss. it's romantic."
"you are coming toward me with your mouth."
"that's what kissing is."
long pause. he looks at your mouth again with the focused expression he gave the candle before his energy shifts and he lifts his chin, squares his shoulders, and closes his eyes with the energy of someone preparing to take a hit.
you press up onto your toes and kiss him, soft and quick.
silence.
he opens one eye. then the other.
"that's all it is." your voice is soft, almost warm as you flutter your lashes at him.
he touches his mouth with two fingers. looks at you and then looks at his fingers as if expecting blood, "that was not an attack," he says slowly.
"i told you it wasn't."
"it was—" he pauses. the enormous face happens again, but softer this time, around the edges. "it was acceptable," he nods. "you may do it again."
"how generous."
"yes," he agrees, completely sincerely. "i thought so."
you grin before peppering his face with glossy kisses.
you're sitting on the counter the way he hated, ankles crossed, watching him make tea.
he's very serious about the tea. he always is. he found the process on his third day in your apartment and decided it was important, something about the ritual of it, and now he makes it every morning with the gravity of a man performing surgery.
kettle, mug, the specific shelf where you keep the bags.
he's memorized which one you like without ever asking.
you're watching his back when it happens. the kettle's not quite hot enough, you can tell by the way he tilts his head at it, and then he points two fingers at it, almost casually, the way you'd reach over to turn a dial, and there's a soft sound like the air tightening and the kettle starts to steam.
he pours. stirs. turns around and holds your mug out to you.
you take it say thank you and he nods.
you wrap both hands around the mug and look at him; really look at him, the careful way he's standing, the way he's always slightly more still than a person should be, the way he blinks like he learned to, and you think about a year ago when everything was sharp edges and cold silences and you'd started to forget why you stayed.
"what?" he asks, because you're smiling into your mug.
"nothing, love."
he looks at you for a moment longer before he smiles and turns back to make his own tea, and when the kettle cools again between cups he does it again and is completely unbothered. like he's forgotten to hide it, or decided not to bother.
you think maybe it's the second one.
you take a sip of your tea. it's exactly right, the way it always is when he makes it, and he's standing in your kitchen being an alien, being yours, and you think you love him more than you ever did before.
which is really something, considering he headbutted you on your first date.
In which you spend an evening with Steven's books until their exhausted owner returns to you.
˚ ༻⋆𓋹⋆༺˚
Tags: 18+; Steven Grant x Reader; No use of Y/N; One-Shot; Steven is autistic; Established relationship; Vague hurt, lots of comfort; Reader's gender is not stated. The poem is Loin du Monde; its Eng. trans. is by Peter Shor. Very casual, zero-stakes fluff.
Word Count: 2,565.
Warnings: N/A; this is self-indulgent info-dumping. A bit of Steven angst, but it's open-ended.
˚ ༻⋆𓋹⋆༺˚
Graciously, Steven had given you a key to his flat a couple weeks ago for convenience's sake, since you spent so much time with one another anyway. You like to think of it as a sort of gift to celebrate being with one another for a little over ten months. (Marc didn't get you anything.)
You'd quickly taken advantage of that key today, using Steven's shower after getting soaked head-to-toe on your commute back from work.
So now, after properly drying off, you get to flip to the next page, comfortable and dry and warm. Smelling like Steven's shampoo. Wearing one of his tees and a pair of his boxers. It's awfully domestic.
Ironic, since he's not even here to enjoy this with you. Poor sap is working late tonight. You'll just have to wait up for him, reading all his books, using up his water bill.
Trusting you with the key to his flat meant trusting you with the stewardship of his books. Not owning them, of course, but tending to them when he's not around. Really, he just invited you to read them, but you take it a little more seriously than that. Because they're glimpses into his mind. Which you want to take very, very good care of.
(Some of his books are so old that you wouldn't dare touch them without, at the very least, a pair of gloves. Steven had scoffed at that and swiftly corrected that wearing gloves can actually be worse for wear on their frail pages.)
(You still don't touch those particular volumes.)
Today's book of choice is a thin little paperback with one of the corners creased from being folded backward for too long.
Rolling onto your back, pressing up against the flattening couch cushions, you hold it above your face. Orange lamplight catches there, illuminating its contents.
The title of the collection is in its native French, which is Greek to you. But the author's portrait transcends language. A sad-eyed poetess gazing upward, pink fingertips pressed against her temples. Beneath reads her name: Marceline Desbordes-Valmore.
And though you don't understand what she wrote in her own language, you read Marceline's poems over and over again. Wondering if any of her original meaning or sentiment had been lost in translation. How she felt when she wrote them. Why Steven felt so connected with these poems that he bought a copy for himself to covet and keep.
'Dans vos flots ramenés quand mon coeur se replonge / Ô mes amours d’enfance ! ô mes jeunes amours !
Je vous revois couler comme l’eau dans un songe / Ô vous, dont les miroirs se ressemblent toujours !'
You bask the book's margins, fingertips brushing against old, penned-in ink. Craning your neck and lowering the book to your face, you spot the fibers in the paper, noticing how the edges of dried ink spread out like tiny black stars.
Those hasty ink scratches are in Steven's handwriting. A flourishing thing, denouncing that its writer thinks quicker than he annotates. Each letter connects to the last, overlapping in places, and the sentences tend to flow upward.
Unfortunately, you can't decipher it. Not because his handwriting is necessarily indecipherable, but because it's in French, too. You've grown to expect that kind of thing from Steven, and to appreciate it. How layered his mind is. How many wheels and cogs are whirring at the same time, formulating, piecing together fragments. Making sense of the mundane and esoteric alike with the love of a scholar and practitioner.
There's too much of Steven Grant to keep confined to just one language or experience.
On the next page, beside the original French, a translated version of the same poem lies on the page. You read it aloud, to yourself and the goldfish, adding to the ambient noise of Steven's flat. Mostly the bubbling of the fishtank, the quiet hum of a poorly kept heater, incoherent shouting outside voices, and impatient honks of distant drivers.
"You return in a flood when my heart dives back in," you recite quietly, liking the way it flows off your tongue. "O, my childhood loves! O, the loves of my youth! Once more, I see you rising like water in a dream…" you pause to sit up, balancing the book in your lap. "And once more, your rippling mirrors all look alike."
Admittedly, you like the way poetry reads, but it's another thing entirely to know what it really means. That's Steven's forte, not yours. So you enjoy the words for what they are, and let the curtains be blue just because they happen to be thus.
You flip to the next poem.
It's not there.
The words have been blacked out, marked across, scribbled over in countless layers of darkness. It's entirely unable to be read. Even the title is gone. Gently, you brush your thumb across one part of the would-be poem where the assailant's pen tore straight through the page in their efforts to hide its contents.
There are some things you don't ask Steven about. Things you can't help but wonder about when he subconciously fiddles with the small Star of David charm on his necklace, gazing into space with that murky, faraway look in his eyes.
Perhaps this is one of those things. In his reader's heart, he has rejected the poet's words, marred their very existance. Not erased, nor simply covered, but utterly tarnished and stained. It leaves a somber feeling in your heart, heavy and gray.
You close the book, holding it a little gentler now. It takes a second to pull your mind from it and back to your surroundings, but when you do, there's a slight difference in perspective as you glance around the flat. A new depth.
Mind your business, you think sensibly. You've been together ten months, not ten years.
You step around the couch and to a bookshelf acting as a sort of dividing wall between the Sleep Area and Living Area, as you understand it, and carefully tuck the poetry book back where it belongs. In his tank, Gus circles a little decorative statue of Anubis, the dog-faced god that gives you the creeps.
"Wake me up when you dad gets here," you tell him, and bypass the shelf to fall in a heap onto Steven's bed. You're not tired, but you don't want to go home without seeing Steven. It would feel weird to visit the flat without its owner, after all.
The cat-clock says Steven will be back in about half an hour.
Easy naptime opportunity. Or, at the very least, you can relax without distractions until then, pinned to the mattress by the immense weight of Steven's pressure therapy blankets.
You pull a blanket over your shoulder with more than a little effort, and bury your face into the sheets. That blacked-out page meets you in the corners of your mind.
In what feels like no time at all—you hadn't realized you'd actually fallen asleep—you awake with a start, body jolting. Steven is leaning over you, his hands raised as if he's equally as surprised by the sudden appearance of a home intruder.
"Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to wake you," he says, just as you say, "Oh, I didn't mean to scare you."
He laughs at this, an awkward, half-hearted sound, and sits on the bed next to you.
The mattress dips in an uncomfortable sort of way, and you have to scoot over to make ample room for him. Brushing the sleep from your eyes, you sit up and get a good look at him.
And oh, he's so tired. Back bent, heavy shoulders rolled forward in a slouch. He pulls his legs onto the bed as if they're objects. When he turns to face you properly, those dark eyes you've fallen in love with are red-rimmed, strained. It's like he's been desaturated, drained of something essential. There's no fight in him this evening.
Along the bridge of his nose, there's a thin strip of white bandage.
It sends your heartbeat spiking into your ears while you sit up, reaching a hand to place on his knee. Entreating him.
"Hey," you say. "You okay?"
"Oh yeah, yeah," he says breezily. "Real chuffed. Great day. The best. Day."
Ah. So he was working late, but not at the Museum.
You sigh at that, his listlessness, and pull him back to lay with you. He doesn't resist.
Steven lays next to you with several points of contact, as though you're both assuring that the other person is entirely present. Your knees rest against one another, and his hand finds its way to rest on your waist. You cup the side of his jaw, stubble pricking the pads of your palm. He closes his eyes and leans into it, and there's just something in his expression, the sheer heaviness of him.
"You wanna talk about it, or do you want me to distract you?" You ask, stroking the edge of his cheekbone with your thumb.
He gives a one-shouldered shrug, eyes still closed. "You ought to go back to sleep. I didn't mean to wake you."
You let go of him for a moment, allowing him to get comfortable laying on his back instead, and then fold yourself into his side like a spoon next to a butter knife. You hook your leg with his and fling an arm over his broad chest, hand cradling the side of his ribcage.
Though he's not overtly the cuddling type, Steven's body relaxes, releasing all the tension he's been holding for goodness knows how long.
You physically feel the difference—the cadance of his breath, the slight twitch of his eyebrow. That crooked frown finally evens out. You study his side profile as to commit it to memory, to drink it all in. The slope of his nose and the hastily put-together bandage, stained with something dark in the center. The permanent circles beneath dark eyelashes.
The two of you rest there in tandem, and let the shadows of the flat grow taller.
It's a good move, on your part, you think. To just let him sleep it off, whatever is bothering him. Issues at work? Probably. Not his day work. That wouldn't leave him beat-up and bruised. This—the exhaustion, the quietude—comes from the job with his less-than-agreeable immortal employer.
Again, you think of the poetry book. Of that sad, bone-deep grief in the gentle eyes of Marceline Desbordes-Valmore.
"I changed my mind," Steven interjects your thoughts, and there's that thinning tone there. "Distraction sounds good, yeah?"
When you open your eyes, you feel that Steven is glancing down at you, and it's so clear that he's trying to hold on to something that you simply have to provide it.
"I was reading about Oedipus," you say automatically. "Last time I came over. And I was thinking about the Sphinx's riddle."
He doesn't respond verbally, but prompts you with a slight nudge of the chin that brushes the side of your head.
"What walks with four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs at night?" You quote. Honestly, you're just filling the silence, letting your train of thought flow. "And it got me thinking, because you had mentioned that Khonshu, back in the old days, used to be represented with different ages, too."
"Quite symbolic, really," Steven replies softly. "Just like the moon, that one. Waxing and waning, and all."
"Why is that?" you ask, and stifle a yawn against his shirt. Please, talk to me. Let me be here for you, however I can be.
Steven hums in thought. "Lots of overlap wiff these things. Thebes—a different one than Oedipus', this being in Egypt; it's, ah, called Luxor now—was said to be a seat of power for Khonshu. Not that he needs any more power or ego than he already has, I think," he adds bitterly.
"I'm so used to viewing the moon as a feminine force," you confess. "With the phases representing the menstrual cycle."
"Oh, it isn't all that different. When I said Khonshu was a youth during the day, that was tied to fertility." He pauses for a moment, and raises a hand from beneath the blankets to gesture a wide, spread-out hand to the ceiling. "Think of the Greek Ouranos. Remember him?"
"Primordial sky god," you recall. "What about it?"
"Well, he fertilized the Earth from the sky."
"With the rain," you say.
"With his semen," Steven agrees candidly. You follow his hand mimicing little droplets of rain until it lands palm-down on his chest, near your arm.
Hesitating, you ask, "Then, did Khonshu ever…?"
You can practically feel Steven grimace. "It was more a general thing, I think. Sky gods, and that. He was associated with healing, er, verility."
"Such a nice guy," you say with a sort of half-sneer. "Hard to imagine Khonshu healing someone."
"Well, he keeps me fresh in a fight."
Ever so slightly, you tilt your head upward, as to see his face properly. Testing the waters. Gently prodding. "And did you…get into a fight today?"
"A bit," he says. "A bit." He's looking at the ceiling, directly overhead.
So you've narrowed it down to this: Steven is upset with or about Khonshu. There is a reason that he is upset that he doesn't want to share with you, but he does want to share a conversation. Or, at the very least, companionship.
You can work with that.
Gingerly, you lean up on your hands, so that you can look down on him instead of the other way around. He meets your gaze, and there's something deeper there, and there's nothing you can say about it that can make it any easier.
So, instead, you scrunch your body so that your thighs are beneath your stomach, and you're able to slide more or less on top of Steven.
He lets you straddle him, chest-to-chest. His hands find their way to your waist, your shoulderblades, the small of your back. Warmth spreads from his touch all the way to your heart, your belly. You lean into it, pressing your body on top of his, wanting to physically force his nervous system to ackowledge that he's safe, he's safe, he's safe.
"Not giving you much to work with, today, am I?" Steven asks, a smile turning up at the end of his words.
"Plenty enough," you say, and you mean it.
And, admittedly, you are acutely aware that you're straddling your boyfriend in his bed, wearing his clothes, and he's looking at you with those dark, heavy-lidded eyes, and it burns a pool of desire deep inside you.
But that's not what he needs right now. Not that kind of love.
So you lay on top of him and think of anything else to talk about. To take his mind off of whatever has troubled him today. To let him rest.
There will be opportunities for you to ask, or for him to tell. For you to learn about that blacked-out poem, and any others destroyed for any amount of reasons. And more physical, present hurts, too. The bruises. The scars, fresh and old.
Right now, you're more than content with just being here.
And when Steven exhales again, and wraps both of his strong arms around you, you know you've made the right decision.
˚ ༻⋆𓋹⋆༺˚
Tag list: @wspia @julisvessel @loki-love @lunacreepy6 @draggolblackthorn
The humble tip jar (ko-fi)
A/N: I hope you don't mind this one being simple! I drove between three states for five hours today (standstill traffic is my worst enemy), so my brain is pretty fried. Thx for reading!! <3
you know how wolves have an amazing sense of smell? i think sean would have a thing for scents.
imagine being in a long distance relationship with sean. every time you meet up — which is once in a blue moon — he begs you for something of yours. a plushie, a hoodie, a shirt you wear to bed. anything. anything that held your scent in its fabric.
you’d see him snuggled up with it on your nightly calls, grinning to himself as the both of you talked about your days. you never see sean looking at anything but his phone. at you.
the time between visits stretch longer and longer and your smell fades. sean makes sure to complain about it every day.
it doesn’t smell like you anymore
i miss you
when can i see you again
he has his own bottles of your perfume/cologne, but nothing beats the real deal. the faint fragrance paired with your sweat and natural musk soothed sean to sleep almost every night.
sean’s terrible at hiding how obsessed he is with you. no matter how indifferent he tried to act, his eyes still glazed over when the topic of you and your smell came up in the conversation. you could laugh at how easy he was to read.
Content: Late night star gazing with Michael, turns into making out and maybe a little more.
Contains: Making out, dry humping underneath the stars, shy Michael, you taking the lead, whimpering, just all the subby stuff, mention of j*e
A/n: oh my gosh I love this fic, so hopefully you guys love it as much as I do
The night sky was beautiful, the dark blanket of night enveloping the two of you in almost complete darkness, except for the stars that twinkled and the moon that dimly lit the night sky as you sat on the blanket, the only thing separating you from the grass below.
“Oh, Michael, look right there!” You excitedly pointed at the stars in the sky, your free hand shaking him from his daze.
“Hm?” He hummed, his eyes more focused on your perfectly crafted features, the stars in the night sky reflecting flawlessly in your eyes.
“Look, it's the Big Dipper, oh! I think that's Jupiter over there!” You squinted, pointing at the planet, its yellowish-white glow outshining nearly everything else in the sky, with a steady, constant glow.
You were so caught up in connecting the stars in the sky that you didn't even realize that Michael wasn't looking at the sky. In fact, in his eyes, the stars were long forgotten because there was something better, more gorgeous than the stars themselves.
“Y'know,” he started, his eyes tracing down to your lips.
"There's something I'd rather look at than the stars." His voice was soft and tender as he spoke, his large hands moving to lace his fingers with your own. His free hand moved to caress your cheek.
“Yeah? And what's what?” You questioned, your head snapping towards his own, the moonlight brushing over his face.
“You” pressed his lips against yours, the warm feeling of your skin mashed with his own, sending him over the edge as a groan ripped through his throat as his tongue fought against yours.
“Mikey…” you whimpered, climbing on top of him, your chests bumping together, as you kissed the crook of his neck.
"Angel." He tossed his head back, soaking in every bit of your touch. His pants somehow felt tighter than they ever felt before, everything feeling ten times more restricted, and you could feel it. Of course you did. How could you not when you were sitting right on top of him?
“Mama, I'm so hard, please," he begged, his hip bucking on its own, without you even moving.
“Let me help you." You circled your hips against his own, eliciting a whiny moan as his hands roamed up and down your waist, his head falling into the crook of your neck as his mouth fell open, cries falling from his lips like a prayer.
“Please, oh, just like that," he cried out louder than he wanted to, but thankfully with the time of night it was just the two of you. His fingers dug into your hips, his lips connecting with your neck, earning a pleasant sigh from you.
God, he couldn't take it anymore, his senses completely taken over by pleasure, head falling back as his eyes fluttered close, brows knitted tightly together as his mouth hung open.
“I can't, it's so good," he whined, pulling you in closer to press sloppy kisses on your lips, his breath hitching.
"C'mon, tell me what you need," you moaned, making another lazy circle with your hips.
“Oh god, I need you, I need you to make me cum, please," he whined so desperately that you could hear his voice cracking as his eyes welled up with tears, his body shaking, hips bucking wildly as he cried.
You moved quickly, desperately humping at his bulge, your hands now intertwined with his, your breathing picking up as you placed messy kisses all over his fucked-out face.
“I got you, you can let go with me," you spoke, screwing your eyes shut.
"Cum—" His sentence was cut off by a loud whine that seemed to echo out into the night before the sounds of heavy breathing replaced it.
"Joseph is going to be so mad at me for being out this late," he laughed breathlessly, still trying to catch his breath.
“We probably should head back."
“Not now, let's just stay like this." He pressed another kiss on your lips.
pairings : otw!michael jackson x bestfriend!reader
summary : michael expresses how lonely he is, not knowing your utterly in love with him
a/n : this one might be a bit long, mainly just backstory stuff tho im sure! (timelines may be messed up a bit)
-masterlist
1977 - ENCINO, CALIFORNIA
it was the start of michaels career. his father hadn’t really let him go out. in all honesty his father was more stuck on the fact that he had to go on a tour with his brothers, than how lonely his son may have been. especially considering how big his family was. that’s when (name) came around. she had just moved to encino and was the next door neighbor. she dropped off warm delicious blueberry cookies. wanting to make a good impression (in which she did).
michael was the one that opened the door and received the cookies. he hadn’t expected such a beautiful women to be standing outside his door with perfectly baked goods. after the short interaction between the two, he worked up the courage (from the extreme support of his brothers) to walk up to her porch and introduce himself to be friends. he walked up to her doorstep, brushing off the imaginary dust off his pants, fixing his shirt. the he knocked on the door, and completely overthinked it. ‘shoot did I knock to hard?’ he thought ‘no maybe I knocked to loud and aggressive’ another thought popped up. before he could think anymore, the door swung open.
“oh hello!”
she beamed, looking straight at michael. she noticed how a bead of sweat dripped down his temple. yet didn’t think much of it as in california they were known for being extremely humid (that wasn’t the reason he was sweating). michael stared at her, a bit shocked someone actually answered the door. he swallowed, then spoke up.
“oh- um hey! im michael your next door neighbor. i heard you just moved in, i was wondering if you wanted a little tour of the neighborhood and the shops around?”
he nervously looked around, scared of rejection. yet he didn’t notice the way her eyes lit up in joy. her excited claps snapped his eyes up to her. she squealed twirling.
“oh my goodness! of course! i haven’t made a friend yet im so excited! let me put my shoes on, one second!”
she beamed with excitement. rushing to her bedroom to grab her favorite pair of mary janes. then sprinting down the stairs back outside with a nervous michael. she shut the door behind her walking a bit ahead of michael who was still holding his hands in front of himself, nervous. then he again, snapped out of it. and rushed down the porch steps to catch up to her.
“so, uh- where did you live before moving here to encino?” he questioned, trying to start a conversation as the start of the walk had been painfully silent. he knew if his brothers were here they would have been teasing him right when he got home. so it motivated him. she looked to her side, staring at michael. which he eventually realized and looked at her, making eye contact.
“well, i lived in colorado for a bit, then moved to oregan, and then ended up here” she giggled, her living situation had sounded ridiculous out loud. michaels eyebrows raised slightly.
“wow! that’s amazing. I’ve always wanted to visit colorado.” he broke the strong eye contact, looking forward. she then followed him doing the same.
“if you visited then we would have met sooner” she pouted, teasingly. he blushed, his cheeks turning a deep red.
“where are we even going? did you forget about the tour mikey?” the new nickname only worsening the red in his cheeks.
“oh! yes! i we have have passed a few parts of my my tour. those dont matter let me show you the best ice cream shop in encino!”
the pair had spent hours away from home, bonding, spending time together, getting to know one another. then from there, the rest was practically history.
1979 - ENCINIO, CALIFORNIA
michael and (name) hadn’t really been hanging out much. a lot had happened, stuff that she didn’t know about. especially how he had fired his father, then started an album which was dropping in a few months. with the album, and the family drama, he had nobody. he couldn’t talk to (name) because the only time he was free was midnight. he couldn’t talk to his family because they were all scared to interact with him after firing joseph. he didn’t have the time or energy for this, he was lonely, and it showed.
(name) on the other hand, had been calling his house phone every day. just for one of his brothers to answer and say he was at the studio. which confused her, why was he at the studio without his brothers. they had never lied to each other about anything. where had he been? she loved michael and saw him more than just a friend so it was hurting her that he would just drop her like that. ever since her and michael had met, she had fell in love with him. she never thought in a million years he would feel the same for her. she was fine with that tho. when you look at it from a bigger picture, michael had millions of fans from being in the jackson 5. 75% females who were just about in love with him. he had all the options in the world. never would he pick her. that thought alone made her heart clench. her famous best friend was leaving her, making her worse nightmare come true.
it was 2 in the morning, the whole street was asleep expect for michael. he tossed and turned in his bed. he ran his fingers roughly over his face. the thoughts didn’t stop running. all he wanted to do was go to (names) house and just confess all his feelings to her. just to get one less thing off his chest.
the overthinking popped an idea in his head. call her phone, go to her house, aannd. he stopped his thought there. ehh too much thinking! he simply grabbed his phone on his nightstand, dialed her number, and waited for her to pick up. he waited, twirling his finger around the coilly string of his telephone nervous. he was just as nervous as he was waiting on her door step, waiting for her to answer the door so he could give her a “tour” of stupid encino. he was pulled from his thoughts
“hello?” she groggily answered from the phone. rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.
“(name)? did i wake you?” michael questioned, now feeling bad for waking her. why did he think this was a good idea.
her eyes lit up hearing his voice, she melted in the pillows of her bed. she gasped, her eyes wide, holding the hold like it would disappear.
“michael! oh- of course! ive missed you! come through my window! be here in ten!”
i mean, it all happened so fast. one minute michael was overthinking calling her so late. to jumping out of bed to put on the nearest pajama pants on and practically jumping out the window. he walked- sprinted to her house which was only next door. climbing up the same tree he had climbed many times before to her window. he saw her, criss cross on her bed, smiling way to hard at her lap.
“angel! open the window!”
he knocked on the window softly, barely holding onto the branch above him. her eyes widened looking towards the window. she opens the window for him, letting him fall onto her carpeted floors.
“ah, your room smells like you.”
he rolled onto his side, grabbing the extended hand she brought out to help him up. before he could catch his breath she engulfed him into a strong hug. strength he didn’t even know she had.
“i missed you so much. oh my gosh mikey.” one hand went up to his head, the other around his shoulders. he blushed slightly at her words. then he shook his head.
“sunshine-“
he spoke softly, before she cut him off with a slap to the back of his head. now she pulled away from the hug, her face twisted with anger, arms on her hips. he was honestly scared how fast she switched from “lovey dovey” to angry.
“where the hell have you been! ive been callin’ your damn house phone for days on end! y’know your making me look like a fool to your brothers!”
she raised her voice slightly. just enough to where it would hit him hard. not loud enough to wake her sleeping parents in the next room tho. she was pissed now, since he was so up and famous he had just left his best friend of 4 years for goodness sake. his eyebrows furrowed as he murmured soft “no’s”
that’s when he explained everything that had been happening to him for the past few weeks. updating her on everything she missed out from his life. every crazy story warning a soft gasp from her. every sad moment earning a soft kiss to his knuckles, or her head leaning on his shoulder. by the end of it they were on her queen size bed. his long legs under hers, his head on her headboard, and her head on his chest. she was staring at his fingers, softly massaging them, occasionally pressing kissing on them.
the “update on his life” story had been over for about half an hour. the pair had been soaking in each others company. company that the two of them had missed. (name) was slowly nodding off the sleep, going unnoticed by michael when he spoke up.
“angel can i say somethin’. somethin’ you promise you won’t tease me about.” he spoke softly, earning a low hum from her in response. he stared at his lap, a bit nervous to express the long time feeling. his moved his free arm in the air dramatically, then shook his head.
“its stupid, really. I just- feel so lonely all the time. like there is this hole in my heart that isn’t filled. not when I am with you at least. when im around you, the hole gets filled. without I feel this utter pain of loneliness that washes over me constantly.”
he expressed, his eyes wandering anywhere else other than her eyes. by hearing the end of his story, her eyes were no longer filled with tiredness. now concerned, she sat up.
“mikey, what do you mean by that?”
she wondered, her eyes trying to find his wandering ones. he looked as if he was ready to cry, once happy and giddy to reunite with (name) had turned into a wave of sadness. all of the stress and anxiety had hit him like a truck. realizing he had to endure the pain the of not seeing her again. the one person that made him feel complete.
“it hurts y’know. I feel like a part of me is missing when im not around you. I just want to be around you all the time angel. I don’t wanna feel hurt like this anymore.”
his voice cracked nearing the end of his sentence. his legs were thrown over the side of the bed, his arms resting on his knees. whipping his hands onto his face, back shaking. he was crying.
“please don’t cry. mikey.” she crawled to the spot next to him, rubbing his back. “your not alone, you have me, your family.” he then shook his head abruptly.
“no, no, you don’t get it. you don’t feel this way all the time!” his voice raised a octave higher, making her lean back slightly.
“i am just trying to help! your not the only one feeling this way michael! your not the only one that has feelings!”
she was sitting on her knees, staring at the somewhat broken man in front of her. confused. did he not realize how hopelessly in love she was with him. then he moved his hands away from his face, turning his head to look at her. when they made eye contact it was messy. michael had damp eyes. the tears had already moved down his chin dropping to his lap. (name) had tears brimming her eyes, careful to not let them fall.
“im sorry angel. i didn’t mean to make you cry. why are you crying?” he moved towards her pulling her into a hug. her face was leaned onto his chest. she huffed, letting a tear fall onto michaels long sleeve.
“i just don’t understand how you’re lonely when you have me. someone in your arms who is utterly in love with you.”
time froze for michael. love? what did she mean love? how could she be in love with him? what shocked him more was how casually she was saying this. yea, maybe crying wasn’t so casual. she just didn’t know how deep that sentence was held for him. because he loved her more, he loved her. she spoke up, her voice cracking in the process.
“michael please say something, I just confessed to you and your acting as if you didn’t hear it.”
her voice laced with insecurity. scared of the outcome of just confessing randomly right here in his arms. to her best friend, key word best friend. what if she lost the one person who understood every thought that ran through her head? michael looked down, rubbing her back. at a loss of words. then he kissed the top of her head hugging her tighter.
“im at a loss of words. angel, im in love with you. ive been in love with you since you dropped off those delicious cookies to my house 4 years ago” he said softly. her eyebrows twisted. adjusting in his lap so, she was closer to his face. she stared into his doe eyes. his eyes stared at her hers. she leaned in closer to his face. his face gravitated to hers slowly.
“can i kiss you?” he whispered. his face so close it was practically a yell. she nodded slowly feeling michael lean closer, then slowly connecting their lips. their kiss was soft and gentle at first. then slowly turned into something more passionate, and aggressive.
“I can’t believe the two of us waited years to confess when we could have been doing this.” she groaned, pulling away from the kiss.
then getting swept straight back into his arms, getting pulled into a deeper kiss.
a/n : sorry if this seems rushed I just really wanted to finish it (NOT PROOF READ!)
Summery:Michael had been your friends since childhood and growing up he developed a heavy crush on you unfortunately with him and his family moving away to California it made it hard for you to see him but he promised one day you’d both see each other again. Time went on you both did see each other, you came to stay in town for a week and a few days, while together you and Michael were really able to explore the feelings you couldn’t express through the phone.
Contains:distance, crush , confession, childhood friends, mentions of Joe, fluff, time skips, shy/jealous Michael.
A/N: I really feel as though this was all over the place but it sounded like a cute idea at the time, also this isn’t really proof read so if there’s spelling errors im sorry💔 but there could be a potential part 2
@uzmacchiato for blue divider 🕰️
August 8, 1979
Michael and his family had moved away from Indiana years ago and to be honest it was hard for the two of you. You both of course stayed in contact, when you were younger you’d call him and if you were Lucky Katherine would answer. You’d both talk for hours on hours on end, of course with Michael being in a group with his brothers it became harder to get in contact with him mainly because that money hungry jerk Joe Jackson. “He’s busy.” He’d say coldly before ending the calls, “prick” you’d always muttered.
As Michael got older he was able to call and answer you on his own without being too heavily monitored, he had recently been working on his own album he called it “off the wall” you liked it hyping him up while the both of you laughed like sneaky little kids. The most you’d hear from a Michael was when he needed company while writing down his ideas late at night, he’d stay on the line while listening to your soft breaths and shifting.
“You’re gonna be big Mj..”you mumbled softly, your eyes were already closed while the phone laid close to you, the receiving chord dangling from the nightstand to your bedside. Your lamp was dimly lit on reaching from the nightstand including the floor below it.
Michael laughed softly hearing the fatigue in your voice, it was only 11:51p.m for him but for you it was 2:51a.m. He hated that you’d ruin your sleep schedule just so he could have the joy of talking to you still nevertheless you’ve stated countless time that you didn’t care.
He was currently in the studio surrounded by papers and note books some papers were even balled up by the trash can from Michael missing it completely. Sighing softly he tapped his pen near the controls of the studio.
“I heard that” you inhaled deeply propping yourself up on one arm, “what’s on your mind, spit it out” you spoke up.
“It’s nothin…just miss seein you face to face..”he confessed softly. “Your voice would sound better in person rather than through this” he tapped the phone.
You huffed, smiling to yourself. He had been saying that for so long now you’ve been starting to think there’s something else behind just ‘missing your face’.
“I miss you too, Bambi” you heard him chuckle from the other end from the nickname.
“It’s really embarrassing when you call me that” it was a half truth, he loved it but also felt a little shy about it.
Feeling your energy come back you sat up completely picking up the phone placing it to your ear, you laughed. “I think it’s cute”
The night went on and you both managed to strike another conversation going on about the things you both did before he and his family moved away. After a while you felt tired again and plopped down on your pillow, eyes becoming heavy as sleep threatened to take you again.
“I promise I’ll see you soon, Quincy and I have been workin’ real hard on this album.”
“Day and night..?”you teased tiredly.
That made him chuckle, “Day and night, but shhh dont go around referencing it too much”
“Mhm..”you hummed softly.
Michael stayed on the phone while you slept doing a bit of cleaning up before grabbing the phone gently, painfully ending the call he really didn’t want to but he knew he should let you rest.
Ring ring ring
He smiled slyly to himself before answering. Knowing it was going to be you.
“You fell asleep—”
“You didn’t say goodnight..”
He huffed out a laugh from his nose, “good night silly girl”
“Mhm goodnight Bambi”
A week later
A week had went by since the last time you spoke with Michael you eagerly checked your calendar the entire week so you wouldn’t forget his 21st birthday that was coming up.
You saved up enough money to visit him as a surprise for his upcoming birthday with the help of Janet and La Toya. So when you arrived there they help hid you until Michael came home.
Michael had stepped inside, sighing from the long day and immediately thought about calling you. Before he could though he was bombarded by his little sister Janet who had a big smile plastered on her face.
He sighed dramatically knowing she was probably up to know good.
“Hey Mikey, talked to your girlfriend lately” she teased.
“Shh!” He looked around feeling his cheeks warm up, “I’ve done told you time’n time again not say that, she’s not my girlfriend”
La Toya stepped in, “you sure talk about her like she is” she teased
“What’s goin’ on with you two?, normally you don’t tease me about her like this.” He raised a brow.
The two sisters exchanged knowing looks before looking back at Michael who was waiting expectingly. Mouthing the words “what”.Janet giggled and went upstairs towards him room, Michael followed a few steps behind with La Toya following in pursuit.
Meanwhile you were in Michael’s room wondering around, it was messy, toys and stuff animals including he’s off the wall albums were laying on the floor. You reached down to pick one up, you giggled a little. You froze upon hearing the door knob being twisted but when the door opened it was just Janet rushing in shutting the door quickly behind her.
“He’s comin’!” She panted a little.
“Shoot” you sat down the album and stood up, messing with your fro and clothes.
“Janet what are—” Michael pause with wide eyes when he saw you.
You both hadn’t seen each other in years, of course you’ve seen him and his brothers on T.V but on the other hand Michael hadn’t. He was taken aback by how beautiful you were. Janet looked back and forth at you both smiling proudly, slipping out the room.
“Long time no see”you smiled breaking the silence.
Michael was still in shock he opened his mouth but failed miserably at speaking any words, La Toya who was watching a little ways from down the hall cleared her throat. He glanced back at her before clearing his throat.
You shook your head, stepping closer wrapping your arms around his neck into a tight embrace. He instantly hugged you back with the same tightness, tears began forming in your eyes as you felt surrealism of the moment.
“I missed you so much..”you murmured against his shoulder, your voice trembling slightly.
“I missed you more” he whispered softly, rubbing your back gently.
You smiled softly and pulled back enough just enough to look at him with your teary eyes, his face shifted into a bit of concern at seeing that.
“Ohh Your cryin’, he pulled you back into the embrace. “You’re gonna make me cry too, cut that out” he chuckled.
You laughed a little against his shoulder, after that exchange the rest of the family got to see you. Joe of course didn’t stick around long cause he really didn’t care too much, the entirety of the day was filled with Michael and his brothers as well as his sisters. You were shown around the house inside and out, you smirked seeing the pool.
“Don’t even think about it”Michael warned playfully.
“What if I am thinkin’ about it” you looked at him mischievously.
You rushed behind him threatening to push him into the pool, his brothers watched a laughed cheering you on. Tito came on behind you helping push Michael until he eventually fell in with a shout.
“Yes!” You turned your back, that was your first mistake.
Michael popped his head out the water jumping up to pull you in with him, you screamed so loud it echoed throughout the entire estate, Katherine even rushed outside to see what had happen. She quickly sighed in relief seeing it was just you and Michael having fun.
“Sorry!, I didn’t mean to disturb you miss Jackson!” You called out.
“Yeah keep it down” Michael mockingly teased you before splashing you with water, you retaliated splashing him back.
“Doo doo head!” You laughed, pulling him into a headlock.
The next thing to happen was the brothers jumping in with you both, water splashing everywhere just soaking the outside of the pool.
It was later in the day, Michael wanting alone time with you brought you into the studio. You smiled as you looked around noticing the pinned ideas and scattered paper.
“Didn’t clean up I see” you teased, strolling over to the chair he always sat him.
“I was too tired too” he admitted.
“You tired?, that’s a new one” you said jokingly, swaying side to side.
“real funny” he grabbed a spare chair sitting in front of you. “So..”
You looked at him.
“How long ya stayin’?”
“Till your birthday—like I’ll be gone a few days after it” you replied. “That’s why I’m here I didn’t wanna miss your 21st” you added softly.
“You didn’t wanna miss my birthday” it wasn’t a question more so a repeated statement, it warmed his heart.
“Yeah and I brought a camera so we can have some memories for use to have before I leave”
You rolled the chair closer to him, and smiled. This week was going to be fun for the both of you, while you both were bonding all over again there was something that was really noticeable between the two of you.
Michael had held your hand many times before but this time it was different. His slender fingers wrapped around yours almost timidly but the feeling was familiar.
“Bambi..”
“Silly girl?” He teased softly.
You huffed a laugh, “you have a lot comin’ for you being so incredibly gifted, not too offend your brothers or nunthin”
“No no it’s ok, keep going” he encouraged holding his soft gaze.
“Ok” you smiled softly, “I’m proud of how far you’ve come…I’m hoping you’ll be able to start your own thing. Goin’ solo..”
His smile faltered slightly, “that’s sweet but it’ll be hard with Joe..”
“—Michael Joesph Jackson I don’t care..” you took both his hands. “You’re the talented one, you’re sweet and well spoken, thoughtful and handsome..charming”
He blushed and turned away, “stop it”
“Point is M, you’re growing up…you know what you want. Don’t let anyone stop you from taking it…even if it was me.”
He looked at you lovingly, “thank you, and you’re right I do know what I want”
“See and your brave” you tapped his cheek playfully making him dip his head smiling.
“Thank you..” he gently squeezes your hand.
“I’m so glad you’re here with me” he added softly.
Your head came to rest in his shoulder and Michael’s rested on yours in return, silence fell in the studio room. It was becoming late and you realized you didn’t mention you’d be staying here with him while in California.
“So..I didn’t think about where’d I’d sleep”
“You can take my room, I’ll sleep on the couch”
You looked at him, “Michael no I couldn’t do that”
“I’m not lettin’ you sleep on the couch girl” he sassed, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“Should’ve called you the sassiest Jackson”you mumbled.
He dipped his head laughing at your remark.
Later that night you settled into Michael’s bed, he leaned up against the door with his arms crossed. You couldn’t help but laugh.
“You look like my mama”
He rolled his eyes laughing before approaching you and sitting on the edge of his bed.
“Comfortable?”
“Mhm” the bed smelled so heavily of him it was intoxicating.
“Ok good, I’ll see you in the morning—”
“Are you sure I can’t just sleep in the living room with you-it’ll help me feel less bad”
He shook his head, “No you stay here”
“Hh fine fine, but tomorrow I’m in the living room with you”
“I’ll let you have it” he smiled standing up, swiftly making his way towards the door.
Michael quietly left the room shutting the door with a soft thud but he nearly almost saw God when he was face to face with Tito, he rolled his eyes annoyed. Tito just smirked.
“Lettin’ her sleep in your bed on the first night Mike?” Tito tease letting out a soft low whistle.
“Get your head out the gutter will you?, im takin’ the couch. I want her to be comfortable.” he replied almost sternly before walking past him, he knew this would eventually happen. His brothers were going to mess with him until you leave back to Indiana.
“Y’know Mike” Tito followed, “we know you gotta little crush on her, right?”
Michael didn’t answer as he hurriedly descended down the stairs to get away from him, Tito just laughed and followed doing his best to not make too much of a disturbance.
“I’ll take that as a yes, since you’re not answering”
“What’s it to you?” Michael questioned.
“Maybe I just wanna help out my little brother”
“—pass”
“Ok” Tito put his hands up in mock surrender, “but I’d make up my mind if I were you”
Michael furrowed his brows, “what are you talkin’ about?”
“You’re not the only one” he walked away smirking, “sleep well Mikey”
Michael just blinked in disbelief before laying his head down on the cushions, his body sinking comfortably into the couch. Was this some sort of prank?. He could only shake his head not wanting the thought to keep him up all night. He better not do anything ridiculous.
The following morning you got up early, you were still trying to adjust to the different time zones. You shuffle out of the bed leaving Michael’s room, the house was silent with only the sounds of your footsteps breaking the silence. You went downstairs looking around until you saw Michael’s sleeping form.
“Do you normally watch people sleep” a quiet voice called out from behind.
You jumped turning around quickly to be met with Jermaine standing on the other end of the room. A sigh of relief left you as you walked over to him.
“What are you doing up?” You whispered.
“I could ask you the same, i was thirsty” he shook the glass of water gently in his hand. “Now you answer my question” he added.
Your hands came to rest in yours hips, “in my defense im still adjusting to the time zones”
“Oh yeah” he chuckled. “So…any plans for the day or”
“Whatever Michael’s doin”, you glanced back over to where Michael was sleeping.
“So you came out here to just be cooped up on my little brother all day?” He stifled a laugh.
You felt slightly offended by that, “im sorry I didn’t get any phone calls from you all these years”
“—actually ive occasionally have said happy birthday, and it ain’t my fault he wanna be takin’ your attention most the time” he defended.
“I did come out here for Michael especially since his birthday is coming up” you started walking away, “you should be supportive to him wanting to start a solo career.” You added.
“Excuse me?”
“Y’heard me.” You shot back.
You respected everyone in Michael’s family, but you didn’t stand for ignorance and negligence when it came to Michael, he was such a sweet soul so hearing him calm you from time to time sobbing from Joe especially Joe hurt a lot. Being so far away all you could do was comfort him with words but now that your hear that would be different much different.
Summery:Michael had been your friends since childhood and growing up he developed a heavy crush on you unfortunately with him and his family moving away to California it made it hard for you to see him but he promised one day you’d both see each other again. Time went on you both did see each other, you came to stay in town for a week and a few days, while together you and Michael were really able to explore the feelings you couldn’t express through the phone.
Contains:distance, crush , confession, childhood friends, mentions of Joe, fluff, time skips, shy/jealous Michael.
A/N: I really feel as though this was all over the place but it sounded like a cute idea at the time, also this isn’t really proof read so if there’s spelling errors im sorry💔 but there could be a potential part 2
@uzmacchiato for blue divider 🕰️
August 8, 1979
Michael and his family had moved away from Indiana years ago and to be honest it was hard for the two of you. You both of course stayed in contact, when you were younger you’d call him and if you were Lucky Katherine would answer. You’d both talk for hours on hours on end, of course with Michael being in a group with his brothers it became harder to get in contact with him mainly because that money hungry jerk Joe Jackson. “He’s busy.” He’d say coldly before ending the calls, “prick” you’d always muttered.
As Michael got older he was able to call and answer you on his own without being too heavily monitored, he had recently been working on his own album he called it “off the wall” you liked it hyping him up while the both of you laughed like sneaky little kids. The most you’d hear from a Michael was when he needed company while writing down his ideas late at night, he’d stay on the line while listening to your soft breaths and shifting.
“You’re gonna be big Mj..”you mumbled softly, your eyes were already closed while the phone laid close to you, the receiving chord dangling from the nightstand to your bedside. Your lamp was dimly lit on reaching from the nightstand including the floor below it.
Michael laughed softly hearing the fatigue in your voice, it was only 11:51p.m for him but for you it was 2:51a.m. He hated that you’d ruin your sleep schedule just so he could have the joy of talking to you still nevertheless you’ve stated countless time that you didn’t care.
He was currently in the studio surrounded by papers and note books some papers were even balled up by the trash can from Michael missing it completely. Sighing softly he tapped his pen near the controls of the studio.
“I heard that” you inhaled deeply propping yourself up on one arm, “what’s on your mind, spit it out” you spoke up.
“It’s nothin…just miss seein you face to face..”he confessed softly. “Your voice would sound better in person rather than through this” he tapped the phone.
You huffed, smiling to yourself. He had been saying that for so long now you’ve been starting to think there’s something else behind just ‘missing your face’.
“I miss you too, Bambi” you heard him chuckle from the other end from the nickname.
“It’s really embarrassing when you call me that” it was a half truth, he loved it but also felt a little shy about it.
Feeling your energy come back you sat up completely picking up the phone placing it to your ear, you laughed. “I think it’s cute”
The night went on and you both managed to strike another conversation going on about the things you both did before he and his family moved away. After a while you felt tired again and plopped down on your pillow, eyes becoming heavy as sleep threatened to take you again.
“I promise I’ll see you soon, Quincy and I have been workin’ real hard on this album.”
“Day and night..?”you teased tiredly.
That made him chuckle, “Day and night, but shhh dont go around referencing it too much”
“Mhm..”you hummed softly.
Michael stayed on the phone while you slept doing a bit of cleaning up before grabbing the phone gently, painfully ending the call he really didn’t want to but he knew he should let you rest.
Ring ring ring
He smiled slyly to himself before answering. Knowing it was going to be you.
“You fell asleep—”
“You didn’t say goodnight..”
He huffed out a laugh from his nose, “good night silly girl”
“Mhm goodnight Bambi”
A week later
A week had went by since the last time you spoke with Michael you eagerly checked your calendar the entire week so you wouldn’t forget his 21st birthday that was coming up.
You saved up enough money to visit him as a surprise for his upcoming birthday with the help of Janet and La Toya. So when you arrived there they help hid you until Michael came home.
Michael had stepped inside, sighing from the long day and immediately thought about calling you. Before he could though he was bombarded by his little sister Janet who had a big smile plastered on her face.
He sighed dramatically knowing she was probably up to know good.
“Hey Mikey, talked to your girlfriend lately” she teased.
“Shh!” He looked around feeling his cheeks warm up, “I’ve done told you time’n time again not say that, she’s not my girlfriend”
La Toya stepped in, “you sure talk about her like she is” she teased
“What’s goin’ on with you two?, normally you don’t tease me about her like this.” He raised a brow.
The two sisters exchanged knowing looks before looking back at Michael who was waiting expectingly. Mouthing the words “what”.Janet giggled and went upstairs towards him room, Michael followed a few steps behind with La Toya following in pursuit.
Meanwhile you were in Michael’s room wondering around, it was messy, toys and stuff animals including he’s off the wall albums were laying on the floor. You reached down to pick one up, you giggled a little. You froze upon hearing the door knob being twisted but when the door opened it was just Janet rushing in shutting the door quickly behind her.
“He’s comin’!” She panted a little.
“Shoot” you sat down the album and stood up, messing with your fro and clothes.
“Janet what are—” Michael pause with wide eyes when he saw you.
You both hadn’t seen each other in years, of course you’ve seen him and his brothers on T.V but on the other hand Michael hadn’t. He was taken aback by how beautiful you were. Janet looked back and forth at you both smiling proudly, slipping out the room.
“Long time no see”you smiled breaking the silence.
Michael was still in shock he opened his mouth but failed miserably at speaking any words, La Toya who was watching a little ways from down the hall cleared her throat. He glanced back at her before clearing his throat.
You shook your head, stepping closer wrapping your arms around his neck into a tight embrace. He instantly hugged you back with the same tightness, tears began forming in your eyes as you felt surrealism of the moment.
“I missed you so much..”you murmured against his shoulder, your voice trembling slightly.
“I missed you more” he whispered softly, rubbing your back gently.
You smiled softly and pulled back enough just enough to look at him with your teary eyes, his face shifted into a bit of concern at seeing that.
“Ohh Your cryin’, he pulled you back into the embrace. “You’re gonna make me cry too, cut that out” he chuckled.
You laughed a little against his shoulder, after that exchange the rest of the family got to see you. Joe of course didn’t stick around long cause he really didn’t care too much, the entirety of the day was filled with Michael and his brothers as well as his sisters. You were shown around the house inside and out, you smirked seeing the pool.
“Don’t even think about it”Michael warned playfully.
“What if I am thinkin’ about it” you looked at him mischievously.
You rushed behind him threatening to push him into the pool, his brothers watched a laughed cheering you on. Tito came on behind you helping push Michael until he eventually fell in with a shout.
“Yes!” You turned your back, that was your first mistake.
Michael popped his head out the water jumping up to pull you in with him, you screamed so loud it echoed throughout the entire estate, Katherine even rushed outside to see what had happen. She quickly sighed in relief seeing it was just you and Michael having fun.
“Sorry!, I didn’t mean to disturb you miss Jackson!” You called out.
“Yeah keep it down” Michael mockingly teased you before splashing you with water, you retaliated splashing him back.
“Doo doo head!” You laughed, pulling him into a headlock.
The next thing to happen was the brothers jumping in with you both, water splashing everywhere just soaking the outside of the pool.
It was later in the day, Michael wanting alone time with you brought you into the studio. You smiled as you looked around noticing the pinned ideas and scattered paper.
“Didn’t clean up I see” you teased, strolling over to the chair he always sat him.
“I was too tired too” he admitted.
“You tired?, that’s a new one” you said jokingly, swaying side to side.
“real funny” he grabbed a spare chair sitting in front of you. “So..”
You looked at him.
“How long ya stayin’?”
“Till your birthday—like I’ll be gone a few days after it” you replied. “That’s why I’m here I didn’t wanna miss your 21st” you added softly.
“You didn’t wanna miss my birthday” it wasn’t a question more so a repeated statement, it warmed his heart.
“Yeah and I brought a camera so we can have some memories for use to have before I leave”
You rolled the chair closer to him, and smiled. This week was going to be fun for the both of you, while you both were bonding all over again there was something that was really noticeable between the two of you.
Michael had held your hand many times before but this time it was different. His slender fingers wrapped around yours almost timidly but the feeling was familiar.
“Bambi..”
“Silly girl?” He teased softly.
You huffed a laugh, “you have a lot comin’ for you being so incredibly gifted, not too offend your brothers or nunthin”
“No no it’s ok, keep going” he encouraged holding his soft gaze.
“Ok” you smiled softly, “I’m proud of how far you’ve come…I’m hoping you’ll be able to start your own thing. Goin’ solo..”
His smile faltered slightly, “that’s sweet but it’ll be hard with Joe..”
“—Michael Joesph Jackson I don’t care..” you took both his hands. “You’re the talented one, you’re sweet and well spoken, thoughtful and handsome..charming”
He blushed and turned away, “stop it”
“Point is M, you’re growing up…you know what you want. Don’t let anyone stop you from taking it…even if it was me.”
He looked at you lovingly, “thank you, and you’re right I do know what I want”
“See and your brave” you tapped his cheek playfully making him dip his head smiling.
“Thank you..” he gently squeezes your hand.
“I’m so glad you’re here with me” he added softly.
Your head came to rest in his shoulder and Michael’s rested on yours in return, silence fell in the studio room. It was becoming late and you realized you didn’t mention you’d be staying here with him while in California.
“So..I didn’t think about where’d I’d sleep”
“You can take my room, I’ll sleep on the couch”
You looked at him, “Michael no I couldn’t do that”
“I’m not lettin’ you sleep on the couch girl” he sassed, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“Should’ve called you the sassiest Jackson”you mumbled.
He dipped his head laughing at your remark.
Later that night you settled into Michael’s bed, he leaned up against the door with his arms crossed. You couldn’t help but laugh.
“You look like my mama”
He rolled his eyes laughing before approaching you and sitting on the edge of his bed.
“Comfortable?”
“Mhm” the bed smelled so heavily of him it was intoxicating.
“Ok good, I’ll see you in the morning—”
“Are you sure I can’t just sleep in the living room with you-it’ll help me feel less bad”
He shook his head, “No you stay here”
“Hh fine fine, but tomorrow I’m in the living room with you”
“I’ll let you have it” he smiled standing up, swiftly making his way towards the door.
Michael quietly left the room shutting the door with a soft thud but he nearly almost saw God when he was face to face with Tito, he rolled his eyes annoyed. Tito just smirked.
“Lettin’ her sleep in your bed on the first night Mike?” Tito tease letting out a soft low whistle.
“Get your head out the gutter will you?, im takin’ the couch. I want her to be comfortable.” he replied almost sternly before walking past him, he knew this would eventually happen. His brothers were going to mess with him until you leave back to Indiana.
“Y’know Mike” Tito followed, “we know you gotta little crush on her, right?”
Michael didn’t answer as he hurriedly descended down the stairs to get away from him, Tito just laughed and followed doing his best to not make too much of a disturbance.
“I’ll take that as a yes, since you’re not answering”
“What’s it to you?” Michael questioned.
“Maybe I just wanna help out my little brother”
“—pass”
“Ok” Tito put his hands up in mock surrender, “but I’d make up my mind if I were you”
Michael furrowed his brows, “what are you talkin’ about?”
“You’re not the only one” he walked away smirking, “sleep well Mikey”
Michael just blinked in disbelief before laying his head down on the cushions, his body sinking comfortably into the couch. Was this some sort of prank?. He could only shake his head not wanting the thought to keep him up all night. He better not do anything ridiculous.
The following morning you got up early, you were still trying to adjust to the different time zones. You shuffle out of the bed leaving Michael’s room, the house was silent with only the sounds of your footsteps breaking the silence. You went downstairs looking around until you saw Michael’s sleeping form.
“Do you normally watch people sleep” a quiet voice called out from behind.
You jumped turning around quickly to be met with Jermaine standing on the other end of the room. A sigh of relief left you as you walked over to him.
“What are you doing up?” You whispered.
“I could ask you the same, i was thirsty” he shook the glass of water gently in his hand. “Now you answer my question” he added.
Your hands came to rest in yours hips, “in my defense im still adjusting to the time zones”
“Oh yeah” he chuckled. “So…any plans for the day or”
“Whatever Michael’s doin”, you glanced back over to where Michael was sleeping.
“So you came out here to just be cooped up on my little brother all day?” He stifled a laugh.
You felt slightly offended by that, “im sorry I didn’t get any phone calls from you all these years”
“—actually ive occasionally have said happy birthday, and it ain’t my fault he wanna be takin’ your attention most the time” he defended.
“I did come out here for Michael especially since his birthday is coming up” you started walking away, “you should be supportive to him wanting to start a solo career.” You added.
“Excuse me?”
“Y’heard me.” You shot back.
You respected everyone in Michael’s family, but you didn’t stand for ignorance and negligence when it came to Michael, he was such a sweet soul so hearing him calm you from time to time sobbing from Joe especially Joe hurt a lot. Being so far away all you could do was comfort him with words but now that your hear that would be different much different.
Summery:Michael had been your friends since childhood and growing up he developed a heavy crush on you unfortunately with him and his family moving away to California it made it hard for you to see him but he promised one day you’d both see each other again. Time went on you both did see each other, you came to stay in town for a week and a few days, while together you and Michael were really able to explore the feelings you couldn’t express through the phone.
Contains:distance, crush , confession, childhood friends, mentions of Joe, fluff, time skips, shy/jealous Michael.
A/N: I really feel as though this was all over the place but it sounded like a cute idea at the time, also this isn’t really proof read so if there’s spelling errors im sorry💔 but there could be a potential part 2
@uzmacchiato for blue divider 🕰️
August 8, 1979
Michael and his family had moved away from Indiana years ago and to be honest it was hard for the two of you. You both of course stayed in contact, when you were younger you’d call him and if you were Lucky Katherine would answer. You’d both talk for hours on hours on end, of course with Michael being in a group with his brothers it became harder to get in contact with him mainly because that money hungry jerk Joe Jackson. “He’s busy.” He’d say coldly before ending the calls, “prick” you’d always muttered.
As Michael got older he was able to call and answer you on his own without being too heavily monitored, he had recently been working on his own album he called it “off the wall” you liked it hyping him up while the both of you laughed like sneaky little kids. The most you’d hear from a Michael was when he needed company while writing down his ideas late at night, he’d stay on the line while listening to your soft breaths and shifting.
“You’re gonna be big Mj..”you mumbled softly, your eyes were already closed while the phone laid close to you, the receiving chord dangling from the nightstand to your bedside. Your lamp was dimly lit on reaching from the nightstand including the floor below it.
Michael laughed softly hearing the fatigue in your voice, it was only 11:51p.m for him but for you it was 2:51a.m. He hated that you’d ruin your sleep schedule just so he could have the joy of talking to you still nevertheless you’ve stated countless time that you didn’t care.
He was currently in the studio surrounded by papers and note books some papers were even balled up by the trash can from Michael missing it completely. Sighing softly he tapped his pen near the controls of the studio.
“I heard that” you inhaled deeply propping yourself up on one arm, “what’s on your mind, spit it out” you spoke up.
“It’s nothin…just miss seein you face to face..”he confessed softly. “Your voice would sound better in person rather than through this” he tapped the phone.
You huffed, smiling to yourself. He had been saying that for so long now you’ve been starting to think there’s something else behind just ‘missing your face’.
“I miss you too, Bambi” you heard him chuckle from the other end from the nickname.
“It’s really embarrassing when you call me that” it was a half truth, he loved it but also felt a little shy about it.
Feeling your energy come back you sat up completely picking up the phone placing it to your ear, you laughed. “I think it’s cute”
The night went on and you both managed to strike another conversation going on about the things you both did before he and his family moved away. After a while you felt tired again and plopped down on your pillow, eyes becoming heavy as sleep threatened to take you again.
“I promise I’ll see you soon, Quincy and I have been workin’ real hard on this album.”
“Day and night..?”you teased tiredly.
That made him chuckle, “Day and night, but shhh dont go around referencing it too much”
“Mhm..”you hummed softly.
Michael stayed on the phone while you slept doing a bit of cleaning up before grabbing the phone gently, painfully ending the call he really didn’t want to but he knew he should let you rest.
Ring ring ring
He smiled slyly to himself before answering. Knowing it was going to be you.
“You fell asleep—”
“You didn’t say goodnight..”
He huffed out a laugh from his nose, “good night silly girl”
“Mhm goodnight Bambi”
A week later
A week had went by since the last time you spoke with Michael you eagerly checked your calendar the entire week so you wouldn’t forget his 21st birthday that was coming up.
You saved up enough money to visit him as a surprise for his upcoming birthday with the help of Janet and La Toya. So when you arrived there they help hid you until Michael came home.
Michael had stepped inside, sighing from the long day and immediately thought about calling you. Before he could though he was bombarded by his little sister Janet who had a big smile plastered on her face.
He sighed dramatically knowing she was probably up to know good.
“Hey Mikey, talked to your girlfriend lately” she teased.
“Shh!” He looked around feeling his cheeks warm up, “I’ve done told you time’n time again not say that, she’s not my girlfriend”
La Toya stepped in, “you sure talk about her like she is” she teased
“What’s goin’ on with you two?, normally you don’t tease me about her like this.” He raised a brow.
The two sisters exchanged knowing looks before looking back at Michael who was waiting expectingly. Mouthing the words “what”.Janet giggled and went upstairs towards him room, Michael followed a few steps behind with La Toya following in pursuit.
Meanwhile you were in Michael’s room wondering around, it was messy, toys and stuff animals including he’s off the wall albums were laying on the floor. You reached down to pick one up, you giggled a little. You froze upon hearing the door knob being twisted but when the door opened it was just Janet rushing in shutting the door quickly behind her.
“He’s comin’!” She panted a little.
“Shoot” you sat down the album and stood up, messing with your fro and clothes.
“Janet what are—” Michael pause with wide eyes when he saw you.
You both hadn’t seen each other in years, of course you’ve seen him and his brothers on T.V but on the other hand Michael hadn’t. He was taken aback by how beautiful you were. Janet looked back and forth at you both smiling proudly, slipping out the room.
“Long time no see”you smiled breaking the silence.
Michael was still in shock he opened his mouth but failed miserably at speaking any words, La Toya who was watching a little ways from down the hall cleared her throat. He glanced back at her before clearing his throat.
You shook your head, stepping closer wrapping your arms around his neck into a tight embrace. He instantly hugged you back with the same tightness, tears began forming in your eyes as you felt surrealism of the moment.
“I missed you so much..”you murmured against his shoulder, your voice trembling slightly.
“I missed you more” he whispered softly, rubbing your back gently.
You smiled softly and pulled back enough just enough to look at him with your teary eyes, his face shifted into a bit of concern at seeing that.
“Ohh Your cryin’, he pulled you back into the embrace. “You’re gonna make me cry too, cut that out” he chuckled.
You laughed a little against his shoulder, after that exchange the rest of the family got to see you. Joe of course didn’t stick around long cause he really didn’t care too much, the entirety of the day was filled with Michael and his brothers as well as his sisters. You were shown around the house inside and out, you smirked seeing the pool.
“Don’t even think about it”Michael warned playfully.
“What if I am thinkin’ about it” you looked at him mischievously.
You rushed behind him threatening to push him into the pool, his brothers watched a laughed cheering you on. Tito came on behind you helping push Michael until he eventually fell in with a shout.
“Yes!” You turned your back, that was your first mistake.
Michael popped his head out the water jumping up to pull you in with him, you screamed so loud it echoed throughout the entire estate, Katherine even rushed outside to see what had happen. She quickly sighed in relief seeing it was just you and Michael having fun.
“Sorry!, I didn’t mean to disturb you miss Jackson!” You called out.
“Yeah keep it down” Michael mockingly teased you before splashing you with water, you retaliated splashing him back.
“Doo doo head!” You laughed, pulling him into a headlock.
The next thing to happen was the brothers jumping in with you both, water splashing everywhere just soaking the outside of the pool.
It was later in the day, Michael wanting alone time with you brought you into the studio. You smiled as you looked around noticing the pinned ideas and scattered paper.
“Didn’t clean up I see” you teased, strolling over to the chair he always sat him.
“I was too tired too” he admitted.
“You tired?, that’s a new one” you said jokingly, swaying side to side.
“real funny” he grabbed a spare chair sitting in front of you. “So..”
You looked at him.
“How long ya stayin’?”
“Till your birthday—like I’ll be gone a few days after it” you replied. “That’s why I’m here I didn’t wanna miss your 21st” you added softly.
“You didn’t wanna miss my birthday” it wasn’t a question more so a repeated statement, it warmed his heart.
“Yeah and I brought a camera so we can have some memories for use to have before I leave”
You rolled the chair closer to him, and smiled. This week was going to be fun for the both of you, while you both were bonding all over again there was something that was really noticeable between the two of you.
Michael had held your hand many times before but this time it was different. His slender fingers wrapped around yours almost timidly but the feeling was familiar.
“Bambi..”
“Silly girl?” He teased softly.
You huffed a laugh, “you have a lot comin’ for you being so incredibly gifted, not too offend your brothers or nunthin”
“No no it’s ok, keep going” he encouraged holding his soft gaze.
“Ok” you smiled softly, “I’m proud of how far you’ve come…I’m hoping you’ll be able to start your own thing. Goin’ solo..”
His smile faltered slightly, “that’s sweet but it’ll be hard with Joe..”
“—Michael Joesph Jackson I don’t care..” you took both his hands. “You’re the talented one, you’re sweet and well spoken, thoughtful and handsome..charming”
He blushed and turned away, “stop it”
“Point is M, you’re growing up…you know what you want. Don’t let anyone stop you from taking it…even if it was me.”
He looked at you lovingly, “thank you, and you’re right I do know what I want”
“See and your brave” you tapped his cheek playfully making him dip his head smiling.
“Thank you..” he gently squeezes your hand.
“I’m so glad you’re here with me” he added softly.
Your head came to rest in his shoulder and Michael’s rested on yours in return, silence fell in the studio room. It was becoming late and you realized you didn’t mention you’d be staying here with him while in California.
“So..I didn’t think about where’d I’d sleep”
“You can take my room, I’ll sleep on the couch”
You looked at him, “Michael no I couldn’t do that”
“I’m not lettin’ you sleep on the couch girl” he sassed, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“Should’ve called you the sassiest Jackson”you mumbled.
He dipped his head laughing at your remark.
Later that night you settled into Michael’s bed, he leaned up against the door with his arms crossed. You couldn’t help but laugh.
“You look like my mama”
He rolled his eyes laughing before approaching you and sitting on the edge of his bed.
“Comfortable?”
“Mhm” the bed smelled so heavily of him it was intoxicating.
“Ok good, I’ll see you in the morning—”
“Are you sure I can’t just sleep in the living room with you-it’ll help me feel less bad”
He shook his head, “No you stay here”
“Hh fine fine, but tomorrow I’m in the living room with you”
“I’ll let you have it” he smiled standing up, swiftly making his way towards the door.
Michael quietly left the room shutting the door with a soft thud but he nearly almost saw God when he was face to face with Tito, he rolled his eyes annoyed. Tito just smirked.
“Lettin’ her sleep in your bed on the first night Mike?” Tito tease letting out a soft low whistle.
“Get your head out the gutter will you?, im takin’ the couch. I want her to be comfortable.” he replied almost sternly before walking past him, he knew this would eventually happen. His brothers were going to mess with him until you leave back to Indiana.
“Y’know Mike” Tito followed, “we know you gotta little crush on her, right?”
Michael didn’t answer as he hurriedly descended down the stairs to get away from him, Tito just laughed and followed doing his best to not make too much of a disturbance.
“I’ll take that as a yes, since you’re not answering”
“What’s it to you?” Michael questioned.
“Maybe I just wanna help out my little brother”
“—pass”
“Ok” Tito put his hands up in mock surrender, “but I’d make up my mind if I were you”
Michael furrowed his brows, “what are you talkin’ about?”
“You’re not the only one” he walked away smirking, “sleep well Mikey”
Michael just blinked in disbelief before laying his head down on the cushions, his body sinking comfortably into the couch. Was this some sort of prank?. He could only shake his head not wanting the thought to keep him up all night. He better not do anything ridiculous.
The following morning you got up early, you were still trying to adjust to the different time zones. You shuffle out of the bed leaving Michael’s room, the house was silent with only the sounds of your footsteps breaking the silence. You went downstairs looking around until you saw Michael’s sleeping form.
“Do you normally watch people sleep” a quiet voice called out from behind.
You jumped turning around quickly to be met with Jermaine standing on the other end of the room. A sigh of relief left you as you walked over to him.
“What are you doing up?” You whispered.
“I could ask you the same, i was thirsty” he shook the glass of water gently in his hand. “Now you answer my question” he added.
Your hands came to rest in yours hips, “in my defense im still adjusting to the time zones”
“Oh yeah” he chuckled. “So…any plans for the day or”
“Whatever Michael’s doin”, you glanced back over to where Michael was sleeping.
“So you came out here to just be cooped up on my little brother all day?” He stifled a laugh.
You felt slightly offended by that, “im sorry I didn’t get any phone calls from you all these years”
“—actually ive occasionally have said happy birthday, and it ain’t my fault he wanna be takin’ your attention most the time” he defended.
“I did come out here for Michael especially since his birthday is coming up” you started walking away, “you should be supportive to him wanting to start a solo career.” You added.
“Excuse me?”
“Y’heard me.” You shot back.
You respected everyone in Michael’s family, but you didn’t stand for ignorance and negligence when it came to Michael, he was such a sweet soul so hearing him calm you from time to time sobbing from Joe especially Joe hurt a lot. Being so far away all you could do was comfort him with words but now that your hear that would be different much different.
hii! I wanted to make a request based off the “say say say” music video! maybe the reader could be a friend of Linda and Paul’s that they brought onto set, and Michael falls head over heels for her? Thank you!
˚₊‧꒰ა ✦ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Caught my eye
Pairing: Michael x fem!reader
Content: In which Michael becomes infatuated with you after seeing on set.
A/n: this is supa short sorry 😞
Michael was completely distracted.
He watched carefully as you sat off to the side, in a velvet chair that was especially there just for you, occasionally sipping some of the water that was offered to you by Linda as you mingled with each other in between takes.
God, you were a pretty thing.
He had heard a little bit about you from Paul and Linda themselves, but what he didn't expect was for his eyes to be drifting off in your direction every time the director yelled cut. He wanted so badly to march up to you and completely knock you off your feet, but there were two problems. Problem one: He was too shy. Sure, he was a lot less shy than he was a year or two prior, but still shy all the same. Problem two: Every time he tried to make his way over after finally gathering the courage, he’d somehow get swooped away, getting called over to talk to the director or get his makeup touched up, being forced to watch that pretty smile of yours from a distance, knowing that it wasn't him that was causing it.
“Cut!” Another scene done well, yet he was still distracted.
Surely he wasn’t looking your way, right?
Wrong.
In fact, he was walking straight towards you. His blue cap held his curls in position over his forehead, his sweater giving an oversized look, as his sleeves looked puffy from being rolled up just above his elbows, and best of all were his pretty brown eyes that seemed to stare into your soul, but not in a creepy way, but in a way like he was admiring every little bit of your features.
“Hey,” his tone was soft, yet playful as he spoke.
“Michael,” he spoke up, forcing his hand out.
“I think everyone here knows who you are, Michael,” you giggled, reaching your own hand out, clasping onto Michael's extraordinarily large hand. It was warm, firm, almost exactly what you pictured it to be, but before you could get lost in your own head, you quickly shook the thought away.
“Is that so?” he grinned, not wanting to let go of the warmth holding your hand gave him.
“I don’t really wanna go back to my trailer alone,” he started, distributing his weight from foot to foot, like he was in the presence of royalty and was afraid of messing up.
“What? Are you inviting me back to your trailer?”
“Maybe, depends on if you say yes.” He looked down at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck to soothe his nerves.
"Then I'll say yes," you smiled, standing up from your chair, watching as his face changed after finally processing what exactly you said.
PAIRING: off the wall!michael jackson x black!fem!reader
SUMMARY: inspired by his song “Girlfriend” + this edit + this TikTok + in which the thin line between close friends and lovers becomes blurred one night when you and Michael share a kiss, which ultimately leads to a shift in your friendship. however, things get complicated once Michael confesses his love for you and you suddenly realize you’ll have to pick between your boyfriend and your best friend. 🩷
AUTHOR’S NOTE: this wasn’t how i was initially going to end this, but i kept getting hit with writer’s block in the middle of writing, so… pls don’t beat me up 🥲 | part two. 🩷
you and Michael had been like two peas in a pod since the two of you met when you were teenagers in Encino, always finding some way to spend time with each other whenever you were free. he was incredibly shy when you first met, a sweet boyish innocence to him that seemed to draw you in more than you expected, and as time progressed, he managed to become so comfortable with you that he let his guard down and allowed himself to be… well, himself around you — though, he still had tendencies of shying away from you whenever you talked about certain things.
however, time passing didn’t just make you two closer — it made his brothers start to tease the both of you. you and Michael had always managed to maintain a very platonic relationship with each other, but his brothers had somehow convinced themselves that the two of you were either secretly dating or would eventually start dating. it was almost a frequent occurrence whenever you visited Hayvenhurst and Michael wouldn’t do anything but shyly grin, huff under his breath, and pointedly ask his brothers to leave the two of you alone.
you and Michael thought his brothers were crazy, and that thought remained the same as the two of you aged from your teen years to your early twenties. you couldn’t see yourselves dating each other and neither of you saw one another in a romantic light — at least, that was until things shifted in your relationship when you least expected it.
a month ago, you and Michael were in the studio at Hayvenhurst in the middle of the night. everyone in the house was asleep, but Michael insisted on staying awake because he had an idea for a song that he couldn’t shake, and he knew it’d continue to bother him until he got up to do something about it.
despite his persistence, Michael was sleepy, and you could tell he was sleepy because his voice was softer than usual and his fingers were lazily fidgeting with either the pencil in his hand or the notebook in his lap. you tried to convince him that he’d be better off sleeping instead of trying to push through his fatigue, but he refused, and that was when you took matters into your own hands.
“Michael, c’mon…” you huffed softly as you stood from the sofa in the studio and walked over to his chair, grabbing the headrest and spinning it around to make him face you, “it’s almost 3 in the mornin’, applehead. you can finish that later, you need sleep.”
“mm-mm,” Michael hummed quietly, not bothering to raise his head to look at you, as he gently gnawed on his bottom lip and softly tapped the eraser end of his pencil against the semi-full page in his notebook, “there’s somethin’ else here… i just gotta’— hey!”
Michael’s sentence was cut short by you smoothly grabbing and taking the notebook from his lap, his head snapping up to look at you as a small furrow immediately formed between his eyebrows and his lips molded into a soft pout.
“give it back,” Michael pouted as he reached for the notebook and you quickly moved it away from him, taking a step back to purposely move out of his reach, “c’mon, i’m almost done! let me finish, please?”
“no, you need sle— Michael!” you abruptly squealed as Michael suddenly launched towards you and tried to snatch the notebook back, but you moved away again before he could properly reach you.
“gimme’ it!” Michael giggled as he chased you around the studio and you squealed again, holding the notebook close against your chest while you dodged his advances.
“no!” you laughed before yelping at feeling one of Michael’s hands catch you by the hem of your shirt and pull you into him, a breathy giggle falling from your lips once his arm wrapped around your waist, “Mikey!”
“gimme’ my notebook, you bug!” the moment Michael’s arm locked around you, he firmly held you close to him and the two of you began to wrestle over the notebook, both of you giggling like little kids while you wiggled in his grasp.
as the two of you playfully wrestled over the notebook, you somehow managed to lose your balance and topple over to the ground, ultimately taking Michael with you since one of his arms was still around you.
both of you hit the floor with a thud and a soft yelp fell from your mouth as one of your hands clung to Michael’s shirt and the other held the notebook to your chest while Michael’s arm tightened around your waist and his other arm braced itself against the floor beside your head to maintain his balance, the tumble causing him to land directly on top of you with his face only a short distance from yours.
you blinked and looked up at Michael, who was already looking down at you, and the two of you looked at each other silently for a moment before giggling in unison at the predicament you ended up in.
“you’re such a distraction.” Michael chuckled softly as he unwrapped his arm from around you and retrieved his notebook from your grasp, causing you to playfully huff and let go of his shirt.
“and you’re stubborn,” you countered, slightly raising your eyebrows, as Michael grinned bashfully and attempted to lean up from you to create distance between the two of you but your hands quickly grabbed ahold of his collar to keep him in place, oblivious to how troublesome your close proximity was, “without me to keep you in check, you’d probably work yourself further into sleep deprivation.”
Michael’s eyes slightly widened at feeling you practically lock him into place and he blinked as his gaze dropped to your hands on his collar before flitting back towards your gaze, his big brown eyes softening while he grew timid under your eye contact.
little did you know, Michael had caught feelings for you a few weeks ago, and he didn’t even realize he looked at you romantically until he started getting shy whenever you looked at him for too long. keeping him this close to you had him fighting thoughts and emotions that you didn’t even know he was privately dealing with, mainly because he thought they’d fade away — but they never did.
“i’ll, um… i’ll sleep.” Michael finally gave in, his words coming out shyly, as you smiled proudly and searched his eyes, somehow overlooking the glint of admiration in them.
“you promise?” you asked softly as you slightly raised your eyebrows again and Michael timidly nodded.
“y… yeah,” Michael whispered as his gaze unintentionally dropped to your mouth for a moment before redirecting to your eyes, but you caught it before he could pretend it didn’t happen, “…i promise.”
the atmosphere seemingly changed when you noticed his gaze shift to your lips, and you knew Michael caught it because he could easily read the energy from people and in rooms. it was something you hadn’t necessarily felt before towards him, but it didn’t feel unnatural — in fact, it felt just as natural as your friendship did.
that was the moment you felt it for the first time since you’ve known Michael — that gravitational pull between not only your bodies, but in your heart strings as well. you had always saw Michael as a friend, but that night opened your eyes and you saw something different — something deeper than just friendship.
Michael looked at you silently for a moment, his pretty eyes searching your face, and his eyes dropped to your lips again, but this time they lingered and made your breathing quietly hitch. he hesitated before closing the distance between the two of you and pressing his lips against yours in a soft tentative peck, freezing momentarily after doing so.
he pulled back just enough to look at you and you noticed a slight flush on his brown face that paired with the pure yearning shining in his eyes, causing your chest to tighten just a bit with an overflow of emotion.
“i-i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have d-done that… i-i know you’re in a relationship and stuff, i j-just…” Michael stammered softly and tried to think of an explanation for the impulsive action that didn’t involve exposing his crush on you, but his words seemingly got caught in his throat because he went quiet with his lips slightly ajar, as if he was frozen in place.
you were speechless, but not in a bad way — well, it depends on how you look at it. you weren’t against Michael kissing you, which was bad for your boyfriend, and you surprisingly enjoyed the feeling of his mouth against yours, which was good for Michael.
before you could overthink your next decision, your fingers slightly tightened against his collar and you closed the distance as you kissed him deeply, pulling a desperate whimper from his vocals once he kissed you back. his body melted against yours and his arm beside your head shifted as he cradled your jaw in his palm and let go of his notebook, allowing it to slide to the side so he could grab your waist and properly hold you.
his mouth moved slowly against yours, almost reverently, and your hands let go of his collar as you held onto the sides of his neck instead, pulling him closer than he already was and causing his body to press a bit more firmly between your legs. your head slightly tilted and you deepened the kiss just a little, but Michael deepened it further, wanting nothing more than to kiss you into oblivion. the action pulled a quiet moan from you and Michael whimpered again, this time needier than before.
“please…” Michael pleaded against your mouth, his hands dropping to the lower half of your waist, as his fingers flexed against your body and you hummed softly, your legs absentmindedly wrapping around his hips to keep him in place and earning a broken whine from him.
“please what, Michael?” you murmured against his mouth as you felt his dick twitch in his jeans against your core once your legs wrapped around him and your breathing hitched again, your tongue gently swiping across his bottom lip before entering and exploring his mouth.
“d-don’t… don’t stop kissin’ me…”
surprisingly, things didn’t go too far in the studio that night other than a make-out session on the floor, but the night ended with the two of you fast asleep and cuddling in Michael’s bedroom.
part of you felt guilty for cheating on your boyfriend, especially since you had been with him for over a year when the studio incident occurred, but the other part of you didn’t feel as bad as you knew you should’ve. you’ve loved Michael for several years and he’s meant more to you than any other man ever has, but you also knew that cheating was wrong and you shouldn’t have done what you did… but it also didn’t stop you from doing it again.
making out with Michael wasn’t an isolated incident — it happened repeatedly and frequently. whenever the two of you were left alone in the middle of the night, his mouth would always be on yours and you’d end up making out with each other, no matter what room of Hayvenhurst you were in.
both of you were surprised you hadn’t gotten caught yet, whether it was by his family or even your own boyfriend, but maybe that was what kept you going back for more — the thrill of potentially being caught doing something that you knew you weren’t supposed to do.
currently, you and Michael were laid up in his bedroom in each other’s embrace, your body curled into his side and his arm draped across your waist as your head rested against his chest and sat tucked underneath his chin. other than Michael’s steady heartbeat underneath your ear and the soft sound of cartoons playing from his TV, the room was filled with comfortable silence that extended throughout the house, which surprised both of you because Michael’s brothers were never silent unless they were either asleep or being sneaky — and luckily for both of you, it was too late at night for them to be sneaking around.
“baby?” the sound of the term of endearment from your “best friend” made your heart skip a beat and you hummed quietly in response, shifting your head to look up at him, “can… can i ask you somethin’?”
“what is it?” you asked softly as you felt his thumb gently drag back and forth across your waist and noticed the way he nervously bit down on his bottom lip, making you raise your head to properly look up at him, “Michael?”
you’ve known Michael long enough to know when he was bracing himself to bring up something that he was either sheepish or nervous to talk about, but what made you a bit nervous was that you didn’t know what he was about to ask you — though, part of you had a feeling it had something to do with the shift in your relationship.
“w-what, um… what… are we?” Michael’s voice quieter than usual, but you still heard him loud and clear, and his eyes averted away from your face as his fingers slightly flexed against your waist, his anxiety peaking the moment the question left his mouth, “i mean, i know we’re best friends, but we’ve been kissin’ and stuff lately and you let me hold you at night and call you sweet names… a-and i know you have a boyfriend and everythin’, so… i wanna know where… where that leaves us — what that makes us.”
there it was — the question that you deeply dreaded yet knew would ultimately make an appearance.
“Michael…” you murmured quietly, swallowing thickly to try and think of an answer, as Michael reluctantly turned to meet your eyes, his head shifting slightly while his gaze searched your face.
“…you know,” Michael paused for a moment and he hesitated before continuing, “well, i think you know… that i like you more than a friend should… a-and i know that i shouldn’t, but i jus— i can’t help it. i love you so much, baby, and i wanna be with you. i wan’ you to be my girl.”
you could hear your heart beating loud as hell in your ears, and you couldn’t tell if it was skipping beats or if it had sunken straight to your stomach. your lips parted yet nothing came out and you stared at Michael silently, your thoughts suddenly running at 100 miles per hour and your brain struggling to conjure up a coherent sentence.
you knew this was an important conversation that would eventually be had, but your mouth suddenly felt incredibly dry and you couldn’t even speak. your boyfriend didn’t even know about the line you and Michael had crossed — and had been continuing to cross — so Michael confessing his love for you made you feel lightheaded. on one hand, you loved hearing him say those words to you, but on the other hand, it only made things complicated for you.
you were stuck between a rock and a hard place, and you were the only person who could get you unstuck, but what exactly were you going to say to get out of this mess?
I have a thrad era Michael request where the reader and Michael both just got married and on their wedding night tried to get spicy but just ended up awkwardly fooling around before stopping and laughing with each other as they try to navigate sleeping with each other for the first time before ultimately giving up and just ordering a ton of room service instead
So, room service?
Pairing: Thrad!Michael x reader
Content: In which, after getting married, you and Michael attempt the post-wedding tradition, but clearly you two aren't good at this kinda thing.
A/n: oh my gosh I love this idea I had to start it immediately, so cutie.
The sound of the elevator dinging before the heavy doors shuddered apart, revealing the empty hallway, the light spilling out from the elevator into the already lit hall, as the two of you stumbled out, your lips pressed together, moving in a desperate, eager rhythm.
The night was absolutely beautiful, from the way that the guest tables were set up to the way each bunch of flowers sat on each table as your families mingled with each other. And don't get me started on the dance floor where you and Michael could be spotted the whole night, laughter filling the stuffy air. It was everything you wanted and more, and now spending the night with your now-husband was the perfect way to end the night.
Michael kicked the door open with his foot, impatiently dragging you through the threshold of the room's door, his groans ripping through his throat and out into the quietness of the room. His hands traced the silhouette of the beautiful outfit you wore, which nearly made him want to cut the wedding short just to take you back to the hotel.
“So gorgeous," he cooed in between kisses, the feeling of your body pressed against his like a puzzle piece seemingly heating up the already cool room.
“Michael…” you whispered, tugging at his already crooked tie as he moved backwards towards the bed, the back of his knees hitting the edge of the bed, causing him to tumble onto the bed, a low chuckle escaping his mouth as you climbed on top of him, your legs straddling each side of his body, his oversized hands roaming all over as you leant back, breaking the kiss.
You leant back down, your breath tickling his collarbone, causing him to laugh. “God, Michael, I'm really trying to keep this romantic, and here you are laughing," you sighed, pulling back, a smile forming on your face as you spoke.
"I'm sorry, baby, I really am; it just tickled." He tried to hold in another laugh that built up in his chest, ultimately deciding that it was for the best to just let it out. The sound of his sweet laughter spilling out into the room. He took a deep breath, calming himself before he spoke again.
“C'mon, let's try again." He placed his hands on your waist, that pretty boyish smile that made you first fall in love appearing on his face.
"No, you absolutely killed the mood."
“Did not”
“Did too."
“I didn't kill a thing."
“Keep telling yourself that," you snickered as he pulled you in for another kiss. This time the button of his cuff got caught on your earring, earning a quiet yelp from you.
“Wait, Michael, be still my earring is stuck," you whined, watching the sheer panic that fell across his face as he tried to keep himself from moving, watching as you carefully released your earring, his face relaxing.
“We're terrible at this," you sighed before laughing again.
“Yeah, it was going so well too." He put his fingers on the bridge of his nose, shaking his head, letting out a slick laugh, before the sound of his stomach gave way to the lingering hunger he'd been hoping to hide.
“Mike, are you hungry?” he nodded slowly, another grumble leaving the safety of his stomach.
“All that dancing tonight really made you hungry, huh?” You rolled off of him, heading to the phone, laughing, reminiscing about the exact moment Michael managed to clear out the entire dance floor.
"Let's order a bunch of room service; I'm still sad we didn't get to eat the cake." You dialled the numbers on the small phone, your own stomach growling at the thought of a platter of food.
"Ma, can you order orange juice?" he whispered, making his way from the bed to you, his hands now placed firmly on your hips, his head resting in the crook of your neck.
"Oh, and mac and cheese. Oh, and also that really nice fruit platter," he whispered again.
Not only did the two of you order food that was way more than your stomachs could handle, but it wasn't just one cart of food; it was two.
