💌. kinda toxic relationship , exes who don't act like exes , lots of lots of angst , unplanned pregnancy. 𝒐𝒕𝒘! 𝒎𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍 female reader is very confusing.
𝒑.𝒔 ─── After breaking up with Michael , you try to move on and focus on university. But when an unexplained pain leaves you scared and alone, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱𝗻'𝘁. ♡
You didn’t sleep. or should i say? you couldn't sleep.
Every time you closed your eyes, your body reminded you it was still awake in ways your mind didn’t understand yet.
Cramps..? Nausea??
A strange heaviness that had been sitting in your chest for days, growing louder the more you tried to ignore it. You sat on the edge of your bed with your phone in your hands for a long time.
Your grip tightened around the receiver. You almost hung up.
But then—
"Hello.. who is this?" Silence hit you hard at first."Michael," you said quietly. He melted when he heard your voice.
Then softer, already alert: "Baby?" Your eyes closed for a second. You hated that it still did that to you.
"I-i shouldn’t have called," you said. "You did though." He said fast, no pressure in his voice. Just awareness. "Somethin’ wrong?" he asked.
You hesitated.. The truth sat there, heavy and unclear. Days of nausea, random campings that came and went, a strange exhaustion that didn’t belong to exams or stress anymore.
"I don’t know," you admitted. "I can’t sleep." Silence on his end shifted immediately. Then, a shift of breath on the other end. "Where you at?"
"Home."
"Are you alone?" You swallowed."Yes." That pause was longer.
Then— "I’m comin’ over."
"No," you said quickly, Like very quickly. It didn’t sound convincing, and He heard that.
You heard it in the soft exhale that followed. "Don’t do that," he said quietly. "Do what?" You sighed.
"Push me away when you called me first." Your throat tightened. "I’m fine.."
"You don’t sound fine." Another heavy silence. You leaned your forehead briefly against the wall beside the phone.
Very tired suddenly..too tired to argue properly.
"I just needed—" you stopped. Then started again. "I don’t know what I needed."
Michael’s voice softened. "I’m already on the way, deer."
Click.
The line went dead before you could answer.
He showed up twenty minutes later. that was the problem with him.
When Michael decided something, distance never mattered. You heard the knock before you heard anything else.
Three knocks.
Then a pause..Then one more.
You opened the door slowly.
He was standing there slightly out of breath, jacket half on, hair still messy from whatever he’d left behind. His eyes went to your face immediately.
Then stayed there. "Hey," he said quietly. You didn’t move aside right away.
"You shouldn’t be here, michael."
"I know." But he stepped in anyway, like he always did.
Boundaries were something he respected only after making sure they weren’t necessary.
The apartment felt smaller once the door closed.
He turned back toward you, And something in his expression shifted.
very... concerned.
"You been sick?" he asked. You looked away. "I don’t know..." Michael took a step closer, slower now.
"Where’s it hurt?" You hesitated to show him, then you did "...My stomach." His brows pulled together slightly. "Since when?"
You shook your head. "I thought it was nothing." That made him go quiet. "Talk t’me," he said.
Your throat tightened. "I don’t know what’s happening." That made his expression soften instantly.
He stepped closer. "What do you mean deer?" he asked. Like he was trying to read something he couldn’t see yet.
He lowered himself in front of you slightly, not touching immediately.
You shook your head again.
"I’ve been feeling weird. Sick. Tired all the time. And I just—" You exhaled shakily. "I don’t know what it is." Michael didn’t interrupt.
"Sit down," he said gently. You did.
The couch dipped as he sat near you, angled toward you without crowding you. Still close enough that it was impossible to ignore him.
"Have you been eatin’?" he asked. You let out a breath that almost turned into a laugh. "That’s your priority right now?"
"It’s a fair question." You didn’t answer. He looked at you for a second longer. Then, carefully, he reached out.
"Can I?" You nodded. His hand settled over yours. You realized only then how tense you’d been holding yourself.
He noticed that too. Of course he did.."You should’ve called sooner," he said quietly.
"I didn’t think it mattered." That made his expression change slightly.. softer in a way that hurt more.
"Baby," he said quietly, "don’t talk like that." Your chest tightened at the word.
You looked away. "I didn’t want to bother you." He gave a short exhale through his nose, like he didn’t agree with anything you were saying but didn’t want to fight you either.
"You never bother me," he said.
Silence followed.
He stayed right there in front of you, thumb barely moving over your knuckles like he wasn’t sure if he should stop or keep going.
"You can stay," you said finally. It came out quieter than you meant.
He didn’t answer immediately.. Just looked at you. Then nodded once. "Yeah," he said softly. "I can stay."
Then, almost under his breath: "I’m here." And for some reason, that was the part that made you lose your breath.
Because for the first time in a while—he actually was.
9 minutes later.
The pain came in waves now. Just constant enough to make everything feel slightly off balance, like your body wasn’t fully cooperating with you anymore.
Michael noticed immediately. His hand tightened a little around yours. "Hey," he said softly. "Look at me." You didn’t at first.
Another wave hit and you winced before you could stop it.
"Okay—hey, hey," he murmured, shifting closer on the couch. "Come on, mama. Breathe wit' me."
You finally looked up. His expression had changed completely from earlier.
All focus now, all calm in a way that didn’t match how fast your thoughts were moving. "Talk to me," he said gently. "What’s it feel like?"
You swallowed.
"I don’t know," you admitted. "It keeps coming and going." He nodded like he was trying to understand without making you repeat it too many times.
"Like earlier?" You gave a small nod. Michael’s thumb brushed over your hand again, slower now.
"Okay," he said quietly. "Okay, we’re gonna take it slow, yeah?" Another cramp hit and you leaned forward slightly without thinking.
"Hey," he said immediately, voice softening even more. "I got you mama. I got you." You hated how much that helped.
not the words. Just him being there. You exhaled shakily.
"I don’t like this," you muttered. "I know," he said.
You glanced at him. That was all he said. No dramatic reaction, No panic spiraling into questions you couldn’t answer.
He shifted closer on the couch, careful not to overwhelm you, and lightly adjusted the pillow behind your back.
"Sit up a bit," he said gently. "Like this." You let him. He studied your face for a second.
"Energy's off, you don't look okay." he murmured.
"I’m fine." You clapped back. "You’re not fine," he said, not unkindly. That should’ve annoyed you... But It didn’t.
Another wave passed and you closed your eyes, breathing a little uneven. Michael stayed right there.
"Okay," he said softly. "Look at me again." You did.
His voice dropped even more. "Breathe with me, baby. Just slow. In... 'nd out."
You followed without thinking.
In... Out... then again.
It didn’t fix the pain, but it grounded something else, like panic, the noises, the spiral in your head. Michael watched you carefully the whole time like he was counting every breath with you.
"There you go, mama." he murmured. "That’s it." Your shoulders loosened slightly without permission.
He saw that. A faint exhale left him like he’d been holding it back. "You’re okay," he said quietly, almost like he was telling himself as much as you. "You’re okay, alright?"
You nodded weakly. Another cramp came, softer this time, and you instinctively leaned toward him again. He caught you without hesitation. Arm sliding around your shoulders, steadying you against his side.
"Yeah," he said softly. "C’mere." You didn’t argue.
You just stayed there, Head resting against him now, his hand still holding yours.
Michael leaned his head slightly against yours for a second, careful not to move too much.
"I’m right here," he said again. You closed your eyes.
"...Don’t leave yet," you murmured. "I’m not going anywhere, baby."
And for the first time that night, your body finally stopped fighting you long enough to rest against someone else.
˖Ი𐑼⋆ off the wall!michael x personal assistant! ꫂ᭪݁ joe loved how he could manipulate michael with things he was slightly scared of.
contains: heavy angsty themes, cameo of j*e Jackson , forbidden love , fem!reader , insecure Michael , j*e Jackson being the mean ass he always has been ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 arrived folded inside your planner, with no name. Just your initials written in neat handwriting. When you opened it, a tiny pressed daisy fell into your lap.
You spend so much time making sure everyone else's days are beautiful. I hope someone remembers to make yours beautiful too.
You looked around the studio. Michael was pretending to read lyric sheets. Pretending very badly. When your eyes met, he smiled small, shy and immediately looked back down.
It became a habit. A poem tucked into your clipboard, A note hidden beneath your coffee cup, A cassette left on your desk with him quietly singing a melody he'd written the night before.
"You know," you laughed one afternoon, unfolding another note, "you're gonna run out of things to write." He looked offended. "I've got plenty."
"You've written me one every day this month."
"I-i know." He smiles even wider. "...Why?" He shrugged, suddenly fascinated by the floor. "'Cause..." Silence. "...I like knowing you'll smile at least once today."
...how could someone be that soft? Even the staff started noticing. "Another letter?" one of the makeup artists teased. Your face burned. "It's... poetry."
"From who?" You smiled to yourself. "...A secret admirer." Across the room, Michael nearly choked on his water trying not to laugh.
Joe Jackson noticed too. Not the letters…Michael. The way his son stopped looking exhausted whenever you walked into a room. The way rehearsals went smoother when you were nearby. The way Michael unconsciously searched for you after every performance. Joe had spent years teaching his children one lesson.
‘Feelings were distractions’
‘Distractions cost money.’
One evening he stopped you in the hallway. "I need a word." You smiled politely. "Of course, Mr. Jackson." His expression never changed. "You're close with Michael." You hesitated. "I work closely with him."
"That's not what I asked."
...
"I care about him." Joe nodded slowly. "I believe you." For one foolish second...You thought the conversation had gone well.
The next morning, everything changed. Michael walked into the studio carrying another folded letter. He stopped when he saw Joe looking at him and you besides him. Joseph didn't shout this time, He simply placed a photograph on the table.
You...standing beside Jackie, laughing. Jackie's hand resting lightly on your back. Perfectly innocent. Perfect timing. Michael frowned. "...When was this?" Joseph shrugged. "Yesterday." Michael looked at you. "You didn't tell me you were with Jackie." You blinked. "...We were discussing wardrobe budgets." Joseph answered before you could. "For nearly two hours."
"It wasn't—" Joe laughed. He loved ruining everyone’s lives. "He asked for her personally." Michael looked back at the photograph. His smile was already disappearing.
Then Joseph pulled out another envelope. "I wasn't going to show you this." He sighed dramatically. "But perhaps you deserve honesty." Inside...was a handwritten note.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
"I'd love the opportunity to work with you permanently."
"You're much easier to talk to than your brother."
Jackie's name signed underneath. Your stomach dropped. "I've never seen this." Joseph looked almost offended. "No?"
"No!" You said fast. Michael's eyes found yours. "...You didn't?"
"N-No." You said weak. "I..." Michael started, but then stopped. You could hear the uncertainty in his voice. Just enough to break your heart.
Joseph quietly added, "She declined at first." Michael swallowed. "...At first?" Joseph Nodded and Smiled "But eventually..." He slid over the forged transfer papers. "...she accepted." You tried to take the papers. "Nah uh." Joseph Laughed. "I didn't."
"No?" Joseph looked at the signature. "It certainly looks convincing." You couldn’t believe your eyes, is this man crazy??? "It's fake."
"You keep saying that." Michael wasn't looking at Joseph anymore.
He was looking at you. Trying...trying so hard...to fit this version of you together with the girl who laughed at his poems. Who reminded him to eat. Who tucked blankets around him when he fell asleep in the studio. It didn't make sense. None of it did.
"...Why didn't you tell me Jackie asked?" Your heart cracked. "...Because he never did."
"You swear?" His voice cracked. "I swear." Joseph folded his arms. "Careful. Son." You looked at him. "I won't tolerate lies."
Michael rubbed his face. "...Joseph..." It came out exhausted. Joseph softened his voice. "Michael."
"I know this hurts." Michael tried to find his words, but genuinely couldn’t "..." Joseph was very satisfied "But she's a young woman."
Michael still couldn’t find his words. "Jackie's older. Established. Confident. He isn't..." Joseph let the sentence hang. "...like you." Michael flinched. Just barely. You saw it anyway. Joseph kept going. "You've always been sensitive…Girls don't usually choose sensitive."
"...Joseph."
"They choose certainty." He nodded toward the papers. "Looks like she did." You stepped forward. "I chose this job because of Michael."
Joseph smiled. "There." He looked at Michael. "Did you hear that?" Michael frowned. Joseph repeated it. "She chose the job." Not you. The job. Then Joseph quietly added, "She never said she chose you." ...
The room became impossibly still. Because...he was right. You never had. You couldn't. He was your boss.
Nothing had ever happened, No confessions , No promises. Just letters…Poems. Smiles that lingered a little too long. You had never told Michael you loved him. Michael looked at you. "...Did you?" You frowned. "...Did I what?"
"...Choose me?"
...nothing came out. Because how could it? You couldn't say yes. Not when neither of you had ever crossed that line. You just stared at him with tears in your eyes. And your silence...answered the wrong question.
Michael looked down. "...Oh." One tiny word. Barely audible. But it sounded like something inside him had snapped.
Joseph gently rested a hand on his shoulder. "I know." Michael didn't move. Joseph spoke softly. "The poems…they were only poems." Michael laughed once. It wasn't funny.
"I thought..." He shook his head. "...I really thought..." His eyes closed. "...I'm stupid."
"N-No Michael.." You took another step. "No, Michael." He backed away. Just one. It hurt more than if he'd screamed.
"So..." He looked at you. His eyes were glossy now. "...when you smiled at the letters..that wasn't..."
"It was real."
"I loved your letters." The second the words left your mouth...Joseph interrupted. "But not him." ...Michael's eyes met yours again.
Still Waiting…Hoping…Begging. Just give him something. Anything. But your throat closed. Because Joseph had cornered you perfectly. You couldn't say I love you.
It wasn't true. Not yet. You couldn't say I wanted you instead of Jackie.
Because there had never been a "you instead of Jackie." There had never been a choice. Only a crush that had quietly become something much deeper. Too late. Michael nodded slowly. "...Right." He smiled very broken. "...I get it now."
"You liked the attention." His voice was so calm. So heartbreakingly calm. "I don't blame you."
"I never—"
"I wrote poems..." He laughed at himself. "...Joseph was right."
"No."
"I made it into something it wasn't." Tears streamed down your face. "Please listen to me."
"I did…For months." Another smile.This one even sadder. "I just heard what I wanted."
He reached into his jacket. Pulled out the newest letter. The one he'd planned to leave on your desk that morning. Still perfectly folded. He looked at it for a long moment.
Then…without opening it...he quietly tore it in half. Then again. And again. Little white pieces drifted onto the studio floor. You sobbed. "...Please don't."
"I shouldn't have written them." His voice cracked. "It must've made you uncomfortable."
"They didn't."
"I'm sorry."
"No—"
"I’m sorry I embarrassed you."
"You never embarrassed me."
"I'm sorry I mistook kindness..." He swallowed. "...for something more."
Joseph watched in silence. Satisfied. His plan had worked exactly as intended. He hadn't needed Michael to hate you. Only to stop believing in you.
mil talks ૮ • ﻌ - ა. this took ME again so long *sigh*... lmk if this needs a part 2??? I love writing angst sm <3 anyways #fuhjoe and have a great day / night ilyyall.
𑣲 professor mature era! michael. loves to flirt with his colleague. (you) on purpose.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝒌𝒂𝒊': 𝓗e's manipulative asf with it too. flirty 𝓜ichael & 𝓢kinship & 𝓢mall age gap.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ imagine professor michael... Your inbox chimed halfway through office hours.
From: Professor M. Jackson
Subject: Quick favor?
Professor,
I think I've made a terrible mistake. I seem to have accidentally given every student an A. Could you stop by and tell me if I'm losing my mind?
Room 214.
You smiled before you could stop yourself. You already knew he was lying. Michael graded like his life depended on it.
but still—Five minutes later, you found yourself outside Room 214. The classroom was empty. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, stretching across rows of abandoned desks. Michael looked up from the papers scattered over his desk.
"There you are." You crossed your arms. "You don't need help grading."
"No." He smiles shyly. (the fact he has the nerves....)
"So you lied."
"A little." You tried to look annoyed. It lasted about three seconds."You know," you sighed, "one day I'm actually going to ignore your emails." His mouth curved into the smallest smile. "...You won't."
"You sound awfully confident."
"I know you." Your heart betrayed you. He always just.. answered like that, like simple... As though it wasn't even a question. You moved beside his desk, glancing at the stack of exams. "You've already marked these."
"Mm.."
"Soooo...why am I here?" Michael leaned back in his chair. Then His eyes stayed on you, not in a way that made you uncomfortable.
Just... very fond. "I hadn't seen you today." You looked down at the papers to hide your smile. "We had a faculty meeting this morning."
"You were sittin' across the room." You said too quick. "But you saw me."
"I couldn't talk to you." The room grew quiet. You turned another page you weren't actually reading. "You invited me here just because you missed me?"
"I invited you here because I wanted to look at you for five minutes." Your breath caught. "You say things like that far too casually."
"I've been thinkin' 'em all morning." You laughed under your breath, shaking your head. "You are impossible."
"I know." You finally looked up. He was already looking at you, softly, like he always did when nobody else was around. Your cheeks felt warm Michael loved getting you shy, then he smiled. "Shy now..?"
"W-what?" You looked away. "That blush." He smiles even more now. "i-i'm not blushing."
"You are."
"I'm just warm."
"We're in an air conditioned building." You rolled your eyes, then he stood up. Closing the distance between you until only the corner of the desk remained. You should've stepped back.You didn't. "We should stop doing this..professor." you murmured. "Do what? mmh?"
"Look at me... or whatever..until I get embarrassed." a quiet laugh escaped him. "'Cause you're cute."
"You are a forty year old professor."
"And?"
"You should know better."
"I do." His voice softened. "I just don't care when it's you." Your heart folded so fast.
He reached up slowly, giving you every chance to move away. But You never did. His fingertips brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Then, almost absentmindedly, his hand settled against your cheek.
His thumb traced the curve of it once. You closed your eyes for the smallest second. He smiled. "So easy." Your eyes opened. "What?"
"You fold every time..."
"I do not." His thumb brushed your cheek again. even slower this time. "You stop arguin'."
"I..." You realized you had. Michael looked entirely too pleased with himself. "I like this part."
"What part?"
"When you forget what you were gonna say." You huffed a laugh. "I was making a very good point."
"I'm sure you were." His smile became impossibly soft. The papers on the desk remained untouched. Outside, some students crossed the courtyard, completely unaware that two professors had spent the last ten minutes pretending to discuss exams.
michael's hand lingered against your cheek for another heartbeat,Then another. "If we don't start grading these," you whispered, "someone's going to wonder why I've been in here so long." He sighed dramatically. "I suppose." But he didn't move his hand. Instead, he gave your cheek one last gentle caress before finally stepping back, shaking his head with a smile. "...Worth the fake email."
You laughed. "You are unbelievable."
"ain't I?" he chuckles. "And you'll probably fall for the next one, too." You hated that he was right...
𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒂𝒘𝒏 ㅤ..ㅤ 𑣲ㅤ Michael fell for you the moment he saw you in the conference room. Since then, he’s been serenading you with letters. 𝗪𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 , 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗷𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲. 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁? see──masterlist.
info. ꨄ︎ 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗮𝗱 / 𝗯𝗮𝗱 𝗲𝗿𝗮 𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀𝗼𝗻 × 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝗳!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿. ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝙬𝙘. 𝟯𝟳𝟮. & michael serenades you a lot & is basically head over heels. 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖻𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝖼.
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ read part one. | read part two. | part three.
You stand in front of your closet way too long staring at colors like they’re life decisions instead of clothes.
The blue hangs directly in front of you, mocking you... and you don't like that.The second Michael sees you, he knows. Not because of the dress itself, but the color... black looked beautiful on you, making it impossible to ignore you.
The kind of thing magazines would describe as timeless. But it wasn’t blue. And that tiny fact settles somewhere deep in his chest before he can stop it.
He still walks into the conference smiling. Still shakes hands, still answers questions smoothly while cameras flash bright enough to hurt his eyes. But something inside him quietly sinks anyway. Because he’d written that stupid line at three in the morning in a hotel room half delirious from missing you.
Wear blue tomorrow if you still want me writing you.
And you hadn’t. The realization follows him through the entire conference. He keeps trying not to look at you. Keeps failing. You’re three rows back taking notes with your head lowered, pretending not to notice him.
Every now and then your pen pauses against the paper like your concentration slipped somewhere else entirely. He knows you too well already. That’s the frightening part.
“Michael, what inspires your songwriting process lately?” The question barely reaches him. His gaze drifts back toward you instinctively.
black sleeves..gold earrings. no blue. His chest aches in a way that feels embarrassingly dramatic. “Uh—human emotion mostly,” he answers distractedly.
The room laughs softly at something afterward. Michael doesn’t hear it. Because you finally look up. And for one awful second your eyes meet his.
god...you look guilty.
That hurts worse than anger would’ve. Michael glances away first this time. He never does that. The conference drags after that. Questions blur together beneath fluorescent lights while disappointment settles heavier and heavier inside him.
Not because you rejected him exactly—but because he realizes he gave you something vulnerable and watched you quietly hand it back untouched. By the end, his throat feels tight. Actually pathetic. You leave quickly once it’s over.
Michael watches you gather your papers too fast, avoiding his direction completely while reporters crowd around asking for final comments. For a moment he thinks about letting you go, maybe he should? maybe this is the answer? But then he remembers every letter folded carefully in your hands.
The way your breathing changed whenever he stepped too close. The expression on your face backstage last week when he called you pretty. And suddenly letting you walk away felt impossible. “Excuse me,” he says quietly to an assistant before moving through the hallway after you.
He catches you near the side corridor. You stop immediately when you hear his voice not turning around yet. That somehow makes this harder. “Michael,” you say softly. He notices the tension in your shoulders right away. Like you already know what he’s going to say. For a second he just looks at you.
At the curve of your jaw beneath the hotel lights. The way your fingers tighten around your notebook when you’re nervous. He’d written songs with less longing than this.
“You...wore black,” he says finally. Your eyes close briefly before you turn toward him. And there it is again—that expression...regret. “I thought it would be easier,” you admit quietly. Michael almost laughs at that.
not because it’s funny. Because it’s heartbreaking. “Easier for who?” The hallway hums softly around you with distant voices and moving equipment, but it all feels strangely far away.
You glance down instead of answering. And Michael suddenly realizes you really are trying to end this.That thought lands like a bruise.
“You know,” he says softly, “I kept checkin’ for blue all morning.” Your face falters slightly. He wishes it didn’t. Because now he knows this affects you too. “I shouldn’t have written that,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. “Y-you were just..honest.”
“Yeah.” His mouth twists faintly. “That usually where my problems start.” Silence stretches between you.
Michael studies your face like he’s trying to memorize it before losing access. Then quietly: “Did you mean it?” Your brows knit slightly. “..Mean what?”
“This.” He gestures weakly between you both. “Tellin’ me no.” Your throat moves when you swallow. And that tiny motion nearly undoes him. “I don’t know,” you whisper. That should make him feel better. Instead it destroys him. Because uncertainty means you want him too.
And still chose against it. Michael looks down for a second, rubbing tired fingers against his mouth before laughing softly under his breath. “You know what’s crazy?” You stay silent.
“I think I would’ve taken any little sign from you today.” His voice lowers carefully. “Blue dress. Blue earrings. Hell, blue nail polish probably would’ve done it.” Your eyes shine suddenly and he immediately hates himself for saying that.
“No, hey—” He steps closer instinctively. “Don’t look like that.” But you already are. And somehow seeing you upset while he’s the reason feels unbearable.“I’m trying to protect both of us,” you say quietly. “I-i know...”
“You could lose things over this.” Michael smiles sadly. “You think I care about articles right now?”
“But that’s not fair.”
“No,” he agrees softly. “None of this is.” a long pause follows.You look exhausted suddenly. Young, frightened by your own feelings. and Michael...Michael falls a little deeper in love with you right there in that ugly hotel hallway. Which is exactly the problem.
He stares at you for a moment too long before speaking again. “When I wrote those letters…” His voice catches slightly. “I think part of me hoped you’d stop me before it got bad.” Your eyes flicker upward. “And now?” Michael looks at you quietly. Then smiles in the saddest way you’ve ever seen from him. “I think it already did.”
The silence after his words doesn’t feel empty.
It feels like something collapsing. Michael doesn’t move at first and neither do you...just two people standing too close in a place that was never meant for anything honest.Then you step forward, something inside you finally stops negotiating.
Michael catches it the second you decide. His breath changes first. Then his posture. Then that impossible restraint he’s been carrying all day starts to crack at the edges. “You shouldn’t—” he begins. But you don’t let him finish.
You grab his jacket instead, pulling him in like you’ve been starving for too long to behave properly now, the kiss lands messy, urgent. All teeth and breath and years of pretending this didn’t exist.
Michael makes a quiet sound against your mouth—half shock, half surrender—before his hands finally find you. One at your waist. One at your back. Like he’s been waiting to be allowed.
The world outside the hallway disappears. completely. Just him reacting like he’s been holding his breath for months and you finally gave him air. When you break apart slightly, it’s only because you have to.
Your forehead rests against his for a second, both of you still too close to think clearly.
Michael’s eyes stay closed a moment longer than yours. Like opening them would make this unreal again. “You’re gonna get us killed,” he murmurs.
But there’s no bite in it. Only disbelief. You laugh once small, wrecked. “Then stop making it impossible.” That finally does it.
Something shifts in his face, it softens, it falls, he finally gives in, and suddenly the control he’s been clinging to is gone. His hand tightens at your back and he pulls you in again, slower this time, deeper.
like he’s decided consequences can wait. When you finally pull back again, your breathing is uneven, words catching in your throat before they even form properly. “I can’t keep pretending,” you whisper. Michael opens his eyes. And whatever he sees in yours makes him go still.
You swallow hard. “I’ve been in love with you,” you say quietly. “For longer than I can even explain. Since before I understood what it meant. Since before I told myself I was just doing my job.” His expression breaks in the smallest way.
something inside him finally hears what it’s been waiting for.You don’t stop now. “I read every letter like it was going to ruin me.” A shaky breath. “And I still opened them anyway.” Michael’s thumb brushes your wrist without thinking.
“I tried not wanting this,” you admit. “I really did.”
His voice comes out rougher than before. “Yeah?” You nod once. “But I did anyway.” That lands heavier than anything else. Michael stares at you for a long moment like he’s trying to decide if you’re real or something his loneliness invented after too many hotels and too many empty nights.
Then he exhales. “Don’t do that,” he says quietly. Your brows knit slightly. “Do what?”
“Talk like I imagined you.” That makes your chest tighten instantly. Because that’s exactly what you’ve been afraid of too. That none of this is real enough to survive daylight.
You reach up, touching his collar lightly. “I’m not imagined.” Michael lets out a breath that sounds almost like relief.
Then his forehead dips closer again, resting briefly against yours.His voice drops lower. “I’ve been tryin’ to stop myself from wanting you since that first conference.” Your heart stutters.
“Didn’t work,” he adds softly. The hallway is still there. Somewhere footsteps echo faintly in the distance reality waiting patiently at the edges. But neither of you steps back into it yet.
Michael finally opens his eyes again. And when he looks at you this time—there’s no distance left.
Only certainty. And something dangerously close to regret that it took this long.
“We shouldn’t be here,” he murmurs.You nod faintly. “Wanna go?” but neither of you moves.
𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙚'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. ౨ৎ and they lived happily ever after, married with 18 kids 📖📖 📜📜... 🥂🥂 thank you everyone for reading. im soooooo glad yall loved this mini series, i made it with sm love <3 you guys don't know know how HAPPY every comment & reblog made me 🫰🏽😭 stay tuned for more my loves mwahh.
𑣲 professor mature era! michael. loves to flirt with his colleague. (you) on purpose.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝒌𝒂𝒊': 𝓗e's manipulative asf with it too. flirty 𝓜ichael & 𝓢kinship & 𝓢mall age gap.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ imagine professor michael... Your inbox chimed halfway through office hours.
From: Professor M. Jackson
Subject: Quick favor?
Professor,
I think I've made a terrible mistake. I seem to have accidentally given every student an A. Could you stop by and tell me if I'm losing my mind?
Room 214.
You smiled before you could stop yourself. You already knew he was lying. Michael graded like his life depended on it.
but still—Five minutes later, you found yourself outside Room 214. The classroom was empty. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, stretching across rows of abandoned desks. Michael looked up from the papers scattered over his desk.
"There you are." You crossed your arms. "You don't need help grading."
"No." He smiles shyly. (the fact he has the nerves....)
"So you lied."
"A little." You tried to look annoyed. It lasted about three seconds."You know," you sighed, "one day I'm actually going to ignore your emails." His mouth curved into the smallest smile. "...You won't."
"You sound awfully confident."
"I know you." Your heart betrayed you. He always just.. answered like that, like simple... As though it wasn't even a question. You moved beside his desk, glancing at the stack of exams. "You've already marked these."
"Mm.."
"Soooo...why am I here?" Michael leaned back in his chair. Then His eyes stayed on you, not in a way that made you uncomfortable.
Just... very fond. "I hadn't seen you today." You looked down at the papers to hide your smile. "We had a faculty meeting this morning."
"You were sittin' across the room." You said too quick. "But you saw me."
"I couldn't talk to you." The room grew quiet. You turned another page you weren't actually reading. "You invited me here just because you missed me?"
"I invited you here because I wanted to look at you for five minutes." Your breath caught. "You say things like that far too casually."
"I've been thinkin' 'em all morning." You laughed under your breath, shaking your head. "You are impossible."
"I know." You finally looked up. He was already looking at you, softly, like he always did when nobody else was around. Your cheeks felt warm Michael loved getting you shy, then he smiled. "Shy now..?"
"W-what?" You looked away. "That blush." He smiles even more now. "i-i'm not blushing."
"You are."
"I'm just warm."
"We're in an air conditioned building." You rolled your eyes, then he stood up. Closing the distance between you until only the corner of the desk remained. You should've stepped back.You didn't. "We should stop doing this..professor." you murmured. "Do what? mmh?"
"Look at me... or whatever..until I get embarrassed." a quiet laugh escaped him. "'Cause you're cute."
"You are a forty year old professor."
"And?"
"You should know better."
"I do." His voice softened. "I just don't care when it's you." Your heart folded so fast.
He reached up slowly, giving you every chance to move away. But You never did. His fingertips brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Then, almost absentmindedly, his hand settled against your cheek.
His thumb traced the curve of it once. You closed your eyes for the smallest second. He smiled. "So easy." Your eyes opened. "What?"
"You fold every time..."
"I do not." His thumb brushed your cheek again. even slower this time. "You stop arguin'."
"I..." You realized you had. Michael looked entirely too pleased with himself. "I like this part."
"What part?"
"When you forget what you were gonna say." You huffed a laugh. "I was making a very good point."
"I'm sure you were." His smile became impossibly soft. The papers on the desk remained untouched. Outside, some students crossed the courtyard, completely unaware that two professors had spent the last ten minutes pretending to discuss exams.
michael's hand lingered against your cheek for another heartbeat,Then another. "If we don't start grading these," you whispered, "someone's going to wonder why I've been in here so long." He sighed dramatically. "I suppose." But he didn't move his hand. Instead, he gave your cheek one last gentle caress before finally stepping back, shaking his head with a smile. "...Worth the fake email."
You laughed. "You are unbelievable."
"ain't I?" he chuckles. "And you'll probably fall for the next one, too." You hated that he was right...
𑣲 professor mature era! michael. loves to flirt with his colleague. (you) on purpose.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝒌𝒂𝒊': 𝓗e's manipulative asf with it too. flirty 𝓜ichael & 𝓢kinship & 𝓢mall age gap.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ imagine professor michael... Your inbox chimed halfway through office hours.
From: Professor M. Jackson
Subject: Quick favor?
Professor,
I think I've made a terrible mistake. I seem to have accidentally given every student an A. Could you stop by and tell me if I'm losing my mind?
Room 214.
You smiled before you could stop yourself. You already knew he was lying. Michael graded like his life depended on it.
but still—Five minutes later, you found yourself outside Room 214. The classroom was empty. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, stretching across rows of abandoned desks. Michael looked up from the papers scattered over his desk.
"There you are." You crossed your arms. "You don't need help grading."
"No." He smiles shyly. (the fact he has the nerves....)
"So you lied."
"A little." You tried to look annoyed. It lasted about three seconds."You know," you sighed, "one day I'm actually going to ignore your emails." His mouth curved into the smallest smile. "...You won't."
"You sound awfully confident."
"I know you." Your heart betrayed you. He always just.. answered like that, like simple... As though it wasn't even a question. You moved beside his desk, glancing at the stack of exams. "You've already marked these."
"Mm.."
"Soooo...why am I here?" Michael leaned back in his chair. Then His eyes stayed on you, not in a way that made you uncomfortable.
Just... very fond. "I hadn't seen you today." You looked down at the papers to hide your smile. "We had a faculty meeting this morning."
"You were sittin' across the room." You said too quick. "But you saw me."
"I couldn't talk to you." The room grew quiet. You turned another page you weren't actually reading. "You invited me here just because you missed me?"
"I invited you here because I wanted to look at you for five minutes." Your breath caught. "You say things like that far too casually."
"I've been thinkin' 'em all morning." You laughed under your breath, shaking your head. "You are impossible."
"I know." You finally looked up. He was already looking at you, softly, like he always did when nobody else was around. Your cheeks felt warm Michael loved getting you shy, then he smiled. "Shy now..?"
"W-what?" You looked away. "That blush." He smiles even more now. "i-i'm not blushing."
"You are."
"I'm just warm."
"We're in an air conditioned building." You rolled your eyes, then he stood up. Closing the distance between you until only the corner of the desk remained. You should've stepped back.You didn't. "We should stop doing this..professor." you murmured. "Do what? mmh?"
"Look at me... or whatever..until I get embarrassed." a quiet laugh escaped him. "'Cause you're cute."
"You are a forty year old professor."
"And?"
"You should know better."
"I do." His voice softened. "I just don't care when it's you." Your heart folded so fast.
He reached up slowly, giving you every chance to move away. But You never did. His fingertips brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Then, almost absentmindedly, his hand settled against your cheek.
His thumb traced the curve of it once. You closed your eyes for the smallest second. He smiled. "So easy." Your eyes opened. "What?"
"You fold every time..."
"I do not." His thumb brushed your cheek again. even slower this time. "You stop arguin'."
"I..." You realized you had. Michael looked entirely too pleased with himself. "I like this part."
"What part?"
"When you forget what you were gonna say." You huffed a laugh. "I was making a very good point."
"I'm sure you were." His smile became impossibly soft. The papers on the desk remained untouched. Outside, some students crossed the courtyard, completely unaware that two professors had spent the last ten minutes pretending to discuss exams.
michael's hand lingered against your cheek for another heartbeat,Then another. "If we don't start grading these," you whispered, "someone's going to wonder why I've been in here so long." He sighed dramatically. "I suppose." But he didn't move his hand. Instead, he gave your cheek one last gentle caress before finally stepping back, shaking his head with a smile. "...Worth the fake email."
You laughed. "You are unbelievable."
"ain't I?" he chuckles. "And you'll probably fall for the next one, too." You hated that he was right...
𝐎𝐓𝐖 🍮🥄 ˚₊‧ your boyfriend's reaction to you being insecure in a bikini. ❤︎ 𝗽𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳 , 𝗮 𝗯𝗶𝘁 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 , 𝘀𝗸𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽. . ﹒ ﹒ ﹒ (ㅅ´ ˘ `) mini blurb.
𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍 was waiting on the bed with his sunglasses in one hand when the bathroom door opened.
You nearly turned around and went right back inside. The bikini had looked fine in the store and fine in your hands.
But now, standing in front of him, suddenly felt ridiculous. Your arms folded instinctively across your stomach.
Michael saw that, his smile faded. not because he disliked what he saw. because he recognized insecurity the second it appeared. You looked away first. "i-it's ugly isn't it.." The mattress shifted quietly.
When you looked back, he'd already stood. "Why do you say that baby?" You shrugged Unable to explain it properly.
Michael stopped in front of you, Close enough now that you could smell his cologne also close enough that looking at him felt harder than wearing the bikini.
His eyes travelled slowly over you once.. taking you in. Appreciating. The look alone made heat creep into your face. Michael's expression softened. "Baby.. my beautiful lady..." You immediately looked down. That made him smile.
His fingers found your chin, lifting it gently until you looked at him again. "Look at me please.." You hated how nervous you felt. And he could tell.
His hand slid from your chin to your cheek. Thumb brushing lightly against your skin. "You've been standing in that bathroom worryin' about this, haven't you?" You didn't answer. Michael laughed quietly. but not at you, never at you. It was the kind of laugh that said he'd already figured it out.
His other hand settled carefully at your waist. You felt your pulse immediately betray you.
"I don't like when you talk about yourself like that." His gaze dropped briefly. Then returned to yours. "Especially when I get to look at you." The words came out so naturally that they made the butterflies in your stomach active again. Michael seemed embarrassed the second he realized he'd said them out loud, His eyes flickered away.
a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, very shy. Always shy when he meant something. You loved that about him. "Michael..." He shook his head Still smiling to himself.
Then his hands settled at your waist properly Drawing you a fraction closer. "You know what I see?" His voice was quieter now. You shook your head. For a moment he simply looked at you. Like he couldn't believe you genuinely didn't know.
Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against your forehead trailing down to your neck. His hands never leaving your waist."I see the prettiest girl I've ever known." You immediately groaned. Michael laughed. "Look at you."
"Michael Stop it. I'm serious."
"So am I baby." The answer came too quickly. His forehead rested lightly against yours. A smile still lingering on his lips. And suddenly he looked far more nervous than you did.
His thumb moved gently against your side, Back and forth. "I don't want you hiding from me, ever. do you hear me baby?" You looked up. Michael's eyes were impossibly soft. "If you're nervous, tell me you're nervous."
"But don't stand in front of me thinkin' there's somethin' wrong with you." His gaze dipped once more before returning to your face. A faint smile appearing again. "Because, baby...fuck." His hands squeezed your waist lightly. "There really isn't."
( 💌 𝓀𝒶𝒾; never be insecure my loves, you are truly beautiful the way u are! )
𑣲 professor mature era! michael. loves to flirt with his colleague. (you) on purpose.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝒌𝒂𝒊': 𝓗e's manipulative asf with it too. flirty 𝓜ichael & 𝓢kinship & 𝓢mall age gap.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ imagine professor michael... Your inbox chimed halfway through office hours.
From: Professor M. Jackson
Subject: Quick favor?
Professor,
I think I've made a terrible mistake. I seem to have accidentally given every student an A. Could you stop by and tell me if I'm losing my mind?
Room 214.
You smiled before you could stop yourself. You already knew he was lying. Michael graded like his life depended on it.
but still—Five minutes later, you found yourself outside Room 214. The classroom was empty. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, stretching across rows of abandoned desks. Michael looked up from the papers scattered over his desk.
"There you are." You crossed your arms. "You don't need help grading."
"No." He smiles shyly. (the fact he has the nerves....)
"So you lied."
"A little." You tried to look annoyed. It lasted about three seconds."You know," you sighed, "one day I'm actually going to ignore your emails." His mouth curved into the smallest smile. "...You won't."
"You sound awfully confident."
"I know you." Your heart betrayed you. He always just.. answered like that, like simple... As though it wasn't even a question. You moved beside his desk, glancing at the stack of exams. "You've already marked these."
"Mm.."
"Soooo...why am I here?" Michael leaned back in his chair. Then His eyes stayed on you, not in a way that made you uncomfortable.
Just... very fond. "I hadn't seen you today." You looked down at the papers to hide your smile. "We had a faculty meeting this morning."
"You were sittin' across the room." You said too quick. "But you saw me."
"I couldn't talk to you." The room grew quiet. You turned another page you weren't actually reading. "You invited me here just because you missed me?"
"I invited you here because I wanted to look at you for five minutes." Your breath caught. "You say things like that far too casually."
"I've been thinkin' 'em all morning." You laughed under your breath, shaking your head. "You are impossible."
"I know." You finally looked up. He was already looking at you, softly, like he always did when nobody else was around. Your cheeks felt warm Michael loved getting you shy, then he smiled. "Shy now..?"
"W-what?" You looked away. "That blush." He smiles even more now. "i-i'm not blushing."
"You are."
"I'm just warm."
"We're in an air conditioned building." You rolled your eyes, then he stood up. Closing the distance between you until only the corner of the desk remained. You should've stepped back.You didn't. "We should stop doing this..professor." you murmured. "Do what? mmh?"
"Look at me... or whatever..until I get embarrassed." a quiet laugh escaped him. "'Cause you're cute."
"You are a forty year old professor."
"And?"
"You should know better."
"I do." His voice softened. "I just don't care when it's you." Your heart folded so fast.
He reached up slowly, giving you every chance to move away. But You never did. His fingertips brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Then, almost absentmindedly, his hand settled against your cheek.
His thumb traced the curve of it once. You closed your eyes for the smallest second. He smiled. "So easy." Your eyes opened. "What?"
"You fold every time..."
"I do not." His thumb brushed your cheek again. even slower this time. "You stop arguin'."
"I..." You realized you had. Michael looked entirely too pleased with himself. "I like this part."
"What part?"
"When you forget what you were gonna say." You huffed a laugh. "I was making a very good point."
"I'm sure you were." His smile became impossibly soft. The papers on the desk remained untouched. Outside, some students crossed the courtyard, completely unaware that two professors had spent the last ten minutes pretending to discuss exams.
michael's hand lingered against your cheek for another heartbeat,Then another. "If we don't start grading these," you whispered, "someone's going to wonder why I've been in here so long." He sighed dramatically. "I suppose." But he didn't move his hand. Instead, he gave your cheek one last gentle caress before finally stepping back, shaking his head with a smile. "...Worth the fake email."
You laughed. "You are unbelievable."
"ain't I?" he chuckles. "And you'll probably fall for the next one, too." You hated that he was right...
HI IDEA FOR JERDADA: athlete jermajesty! x ex fiance or ex girlfriend it could be anything u want. there was a rumor that jermajesty and some model got closer so u distance yourself from him..... and she finds out she's preggo. it can have nfsw and angst!! when I have better thought I sent it to u 💕💕💕💕
ouuhhh shiii yall are the best! let me try and cook it UPP 👅
angst idea for jerdaddy: i’m watching the world cup so idk if u fw this idea! reader and jermajesty dated for a long time. reader went away to germany for school and after a while they broke ip because of the distance and bc he was lowk toxic. fast forward a couple of months or a year, reader is back in the states but as a germany wag. she’s dating german soccer player jamal musiala and he treats her like a queen. jermajesty didn’t know bc they didn’t make it public until the world cup where they were seen together. let’s say germany plays against the u.s and the wags have this nice seats and the jacksons seat right behind them, so ofc they see reader and jamal interact and shiii
izzy806
germansingergirl
theartofmadeline
kaledo-art
romaincrisis
