Michaels Wife

[mikesbian]

SHAVED ICE — Michael Jackson x Black F. Reader

— SUMMARY: Michael drags you from your home to go on a date hangout at the beach and get snow cones.

— WARNINGS: fluff, crack, “just friends”, mutual pinning, cursing, heavy tension, jokes of violence, reader is a shameless flirt & won’t make a real move, mike calls reader ‘bubble’, reader calls michael ‘bugs’ and ‘babe’, suggestive dialogue (talks about virginity), not proofread!

— WC: 3.5k

— A/N: Kinda think we’re at all in need of some good ol’ fluff recently, so here’s something quick! <3

Although this piece is teen friendly, if you are under the age of 18, please do not click on my account, as it contains adult themes.

“C’mon, girl! By the time we make it, there’s gonna be a crowd!”

Michael was damn near gonna break down your front door with the force he was putting into each slam of his fist.

He called you less than an hour ago to “give you time” to get ready. Late last night, while he was walking his pets through his ridiculously safe neighborhood, he caught sight of a littered flyer floating about on the asphalt, and picked it up to throw it in the nearest trash bin. As he walked toward the bin, he read the bold font announcing that a new snow-cone truck would be parked a few blocks from your home, by the private beach, and he got unnecessarily giddy at the idea of having an excuse to hangout with you alone—not that he ever really needed one. He set his alarm clock and everything, making sure to factor in time for himself to get ready and extra time for you because you took forever to get out of bed. Plus, he knew you’d kill him if he didn’t wake you up for it, although hearing how you trudged down the stairs, you seemed like you were gonna kill him right now…

The sound of your screen door hitting the wall and the jolt of the wooden door in front of it unlocking made his stomach flip. You swung it open with a surprising amount of force while he was mid-knock.

“That’s if we even make it. I almost fell down the stairs tryna hurry to get you to stop poundin’ on it. You’re gonna scare the neighbor’s dog!” you scolded him without any real conviction in your voice. You looked just as happy to see him as he was to see you.

“Aw, c’mere bubble. Don’t be like that,” he fake cooed at you, reaching for your hand to lead you down the porch steps as you locked up. As you neared the concrete at the foot of them, he pulled you into a very friendly hug—one that looked like a couple reuniting after some time away rather than a pair of just friends getting ready to go on a walk. He leaned away and cleared his throat after the embrace started to make him want to plant a kis—

“S-so it’s seven blocks away. You sure you don’t wanna bring your bike? I’ll ride on the back,” he suggested awkwardly.

“As much of an ego-booster it would be to have your tall ass crouched over ‘n holdin’ my waist for dear life, I’m fine with walkin’. The weather today is perfect,” you replied softly as you tugged him down your path.

It truly was. A clear, sunny, and breezy 77° California afternoon—the coolest of the month. The sun shone with all its passion as the wind tickled your arm hairs in the most delicate attempt at soothing from the heat, and it was perfect. You could hear seagulls squawking in the distance at the small beach nearby.

Michael swung your still connected arms as the two of you strolled at your set pace. Truth is, he was never rushing you to get there. He was rushing you so he could see you. He smiled to himself at the thought of him struggling to accommodate his height to your vehicle. Every time you two rode together, you insisted on being in control, and one pout on your lips was enough to make him give in. It made for some embarrassing falls on his part.

“What?” you asked, slowing down your pace. He hadn’t realized he subconsciously turned to look at you through his dazed thoughts and was openly smiling at you.

“You’re just…funny,” he said. It wasn’t really a lie—he was finding humor in the way you had him wrapped around his finger without even trying. He just wasn’t sure he should explain all of his thoughts…But why not? You’re just friends.

“Maybe the heat’s finally gettin’ to you. Let’s hurry it up, pretty boy,” you responded, turning away to conceal the shy smile threatening to dawn across your face. The way he was looking at you made you anxious.

“Hey, slow down! You’re gonna twist your ankle on this sidewalk,” he complained as he narrowly dodged the toe of his shoe from catching between a slab of raised concrete.

“Nuh-uh. You were the one rushin’ me to go, so we’re going.” You rolled your eyes with a hint of affection behind them, thankful your face wasn’t visible to him.

The rest of the walk was relatively quiet, save for a few comments on the aromatic citrus trees, Michael’s fun facts about little critters on the pathway, and you feeding him another compliment on his looks.

You could sense him getting a little tensed up as you neared the stand. A few people had gathered in line, and although he wasn’t cocky about it, he knew he could be easily recognized. You traced your thumb along the back of his hand in an act of comfort, letting him know you were still there.

“Mike, it’s okay. Hey, c’mere,” you paused your walking and stood square in front of him, reaching your free hand out to rub at his arm. “If this is too much, I’m perfectly fine grabbing yours for you ‘n we can book it back to my place. Here, take my sunglasses.” You reached into the neck of your shirt and unfolded the cherry red glasses you brought to shield your eyes from the sunlight, knowing he would feel better with something to protect his eyes. As you placed them on his nose, you wondered silently why he hadn’t brought his own.

“Thank you. But it’s okay, really. We’re still super early, I just didn’t expect anyone to already be here. I really do wanna enjoy the day with you,” he protested.

“Alright, but you tell me if you get even the tiniest bit uncomfortable, understand? I’d hang out with you in the men’s restroom if that meant you were havin’ fun,” you joked to him, sliding your hand up his arm to cup his jaw, fixing him to look you in the eyes.

“Yes, I promise,” he squeaked out, flustered and fighting the urge to lean in and kis—

“Good. Now c’mon, babe. I’m hot,” you complained as you closed the distance between you two and the tiny group at the snow-cone stand.

It was a group of little kids—3 girls, 1 boy—and they thankfully hadn’t seemed to recognize Michael one bit. They were pretty young after all, the oldest being no more than 6, and you could see their parents—who you were convinced would’ve made a scene if Michael hadn’t had your glasses on—watching them from a distance, waving their arms to signal them to hurry up.

The little boy accidentally stepped on Michael’s shoe as he was preparing to run back to his family, and he apologized in the sweetest voice you’d ever heard.

“Aw, it’s okay, Applehead. That new spot just made my shoes look cooler, don’t ya think?” Michael amended as he saw that the boy was about to cry. The kid didn’t say anything and just continued running away, pleased enough that Michael at least wasn’t upset.

“Hey, lovebirds! What can I get for you two today? I’ve got a couple’s piña colada specialty that’s really popular right n—”

“Sorry to interrupt, but we’re just friends!” Michael said sheepishly before the vendor could unintentionally make things more awkward.

Right, you were just friends. You knew this, but hearing him dismiss the man like that felt so personal in a way you couldn’t explain.

“Oh, I do apologize! You two were holdin’ hands like one, I thought— Well that’s none of my business. What can we get started today?” he asked with a shake of his head and blush crawling up his neck.

Neither of you had realized your hands were still interlocked, and you both simultaneously dropped your own at your sides with an embarrassingly audible slap! to the thigh.

“I’ll do the Rainbow Sunset,” you responded calmly, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing out of embarrassment.

“I’ll take what the lady’s gettin’,” Michael responded soon after.

Something about the way he referred to you as a lady…He sees you as a lady? Not just a girl or just his friend, but a lady? You didn’t realize the vendor was speaking to you until Michael nudged you with his shoulder.

“Do you want it or no?” he asked, sounding like it was his fifth time doing so. It probably was.

“Want what?” you replied with a bewildered look on your face.

“Coconut cream. It makes the shaved ice a bit creamier and sweeter. Most of my customers get it on this flavor,” the vendor responded with a patient smile. You nodded a yes as Michael took his wallet from your purse and overpaid the man, insisting on him keeping the change.

As you dispersed from the area with your sweet treats in hand, the man caught your eye and gave you a loaded wink, jutting his head toward Michael. Whatever that meant.

Michael, being oh-so attentive, noticed you were rubbing the shoulder you had your purse rested on, and slid it off absentmindedly, placing it on his own. It’s like he was determined to kill you with his cuteness.

“You look sexier in that purse than I do. I should let you keep it,” you teased, giving him a wink as you two sat down on your favorite bench away from prying eyes. He just laughed and rubbed your sore shoulder briefly before turning his focus on the frozen treat in his hand.

You took a bite of yours first, something of an unspoken rule for the two of you. Each time you ate or drank something when you hung out, you would alternate who tried their delicacy first. If there was something either one of you was particularly excited to try, that person would try first as well, even if they tried first last time.

“Michael this is really fucking good. Woah.” You groaned and made a stank face—your telltale sign of enjoyment—and motioned for him to try his. He chuckled loudly and obliged, then his eyes widened.

“I thought you were bein’ dramatic— Ow!” You slapped him on his arm very lightly for the ‘dramatic’ comment.

He went in for a second scoop and he seemed to enjoy that one more than the last.

“Wait, lemme try yours,” you quipped, reaching your spoon over to his cup, making a beeline for the area he was going to scoop up next.

“C’mon bubble, you have your own! It’s the same thing!” he complained as you persisted.

“No, it’s not. He definitely added more cream to yours!” you muttered with fake annoyance etched into your voice.

If anyone were to somehow find this spot and see the two of you in it, they’d be fully convinced you were a longtime couple who never seemed to leave the honeymoon phase.

From the outside looking in, although Michael was ‘fighting’ back, he didn’t actually want to win. He was hardly even moving his cup from your reach, which he easily could’ve if he moved it to his other hand and stretched his unnecessarily long arm into the air. The look he was giving you? Pure adoration. His eyes sparkled at the sight of you, as if every star in the galaxy was hand placed into his deep brown eyes.

You weren’t really that subtle about the way you were ‘fighting’, either. Because of how flimsy he was being, you could’ve easily snatched his cup right up and owned him then and there, but you were enjoying the fact that each stretch of your arm and torso invited his body heat and the scent of his perfume in your nose. That, and you could see his dazzling smile from the corner of your eye.

It seemed like even the seagulls could sense it, as about four of them crowded together and just…watched. The entirety of the beach seemed to bend around your stolen moment together. The waves stopped crashing and eased into soft laps against the sandy shore. Families pulled out of the parking lot and left silence in their wake. The wind even blew in your direction, unintentionally causing your fluffy hair to graze across Michael’s face in the process. You lifted the sunglasses from the bridge of his nose to rest at the crown of his head, revealing his eyes. He froze completely, eyes bulging and mouth agape, and you launch your spoon into his cup.

“Hey there, handsome. I win,” you announced smugly. You tasted his shaved ice and sure enough, he had significantly more coconut cream. “Ugh, I told you! You had more,” you pouted dramatically, retracing your spoon and getting ready to devour yours.

You looked up at Michael, realizing he just kinda…sat there, without a word. That seemed to snap him back.

“Let’s do half and half?” he suggested.

This was another one of your little quirks the two of you came up with. If one of you liked something of the other’s more, you’d split each of your respective items equally, that way both parties are equally satisfied.

“YAY! Thank you, bugs!” you squealed excitedly. Yes, it was actually that serious to you.

The two of you ate your shares of the snow cones and then swapped, watching the ocean in a comfortable silence. Neither of you could pinpoint when, but since you were sitting under a tree, shaded from the sun and closer to the water, the chill from the wind made your bare arms cold, and the two of you mindlessly gravitated towards one another for warmth. You could even feel your head willing itself to rest on his shoulder once you finished the remains of your shaved ice.

“Y’know, I really appreciate this,” Michael spoke suddenly, his soft voice cracking the silence.

“Hm? The shaved ice?” you asked, your head fully resting on his shoulder now.

“No, silly. I just mean…moments like this. With you. You make me feel really normal, and you’re truly such a cool ‘n down to earth person. Thank you.” He was being completely serious, and that tugged at your heartstrings with so much force you thought your chest would collapse. You lifted your head at me his intense gaze.

“Aw, look at you goin’ all soft on me.” You poked his shoulder playfully. “I really do enjoy your company, no matter how many times I threaten to break your kneecaps for waking me up to do somethin’ random. You remind me how to be free. How to spectate the fleeting moments. Thank you.” You leaned your head back onto his shoulder, but deeper into the crevice of his neck this time.

Neither of seemed to want to unfreeze this moment, so you didn’t. You sat there in each other’s embrace, not thinking of work or home life or anything but the beach in front of you, the dipping sun in the sky, and the presence of the other.

“Let’s go throw these cups out before we attract ants,” you whispered to Michael, subconsciously trying to hold on to the quiet longer, even through speech.

He nodded his head and took yours from you, placing it inside of his. With his free hand, he helped you rise to your feet and both of you stretched your tight limbs. Wordlessly, he took your hand again and led you to the nearest trash can.

Then, his eye caught a glimpse of a foil package on the outside of it, ready to pick it up and place it in the bin—the environmentalist in him.

“Wait, Mike no! That’s a used condom!” you giggled at his naivety.

“Jesus—not in vain. People really do that kinda stuff out in public like that?” he asked, flustered.

“You have no idea what people get up to…At least we’re not at Venice Beach,” you joked, imagining Michael trying his hardest to appear unfazed at the sight of topless women, contortionists, and old men in thong speedos riding around and chatting it up with people on their roller skates. Or the other thousand crazy things that happen there. “Looks like it was a waste though,” you added thoughtlessly.

“A waste? What d’you mean?” he asked, incredulous. The man seemed to at least…finish the job.

“Those condoms suck. I bet it either broke in the woman or he came too fast and she was uncomfortable the whole time,” you suspected.

“How can you tell that by looking?” Michael was still so confused.

“Babe, I’m not a virgin. I’m speakin’ from unfortunate experience,” you replied through an unamused chuckle.

“Oh.”

He of course knew that. You’ve called him hungover or tipsy a couple times talking about failed hookup attemps and at least two successful ones. You never ever went into detail about it, but he’d still get awkward at the mention of your sex like anyways. For no reason, at that, because you’re just friends.

He threw the cups—accompanied by your spoons and soiled napkins—he was still holding in the trash after a beat of silence.

“I don’t think I’ve asked. And you don’t have to answer, I swear. But are you? A virgin, I mean,” you inquired cautiously. It made you slightly self cautious whenever the conversation was focused on your romantic life because it didn’t feel…whole, and you weren’t sure why. So, you decided to let him know he was safe to talk about his own.

“You can’t tell?” he asked honestly.

“I mean, I’ve learned not to judge…but I’ve considered it?” you replied truthfully.

“Well, yeah. I am. I’m just waitin’ for the right girl, y’know?” You nodded your head in earnest.

“I wish I did the same, to be honest…Well, to the future girl, lucky you!” You wished you could grab the words from the air and shove them back down your throat, because why in the fuck did you say that out loud?

Thankfully, he just laughed it off, probably assuming it was just you being weird again.

You looked up at him and realized his face was only mere inches from yours, and it felt like all the oxygen supply in the world had been put on pause. He had been looking at you intently, but you were never one to shy away from eye contact, and your warm eyes made him all but melt right then and there, and he looked past you after struggling to hold it.

“Makin’ you nervous?” you asked him, voice full of allure. You were trying everything not to risk your entire friendship.

“N-no…” Michael so obviously lied. You raised a very disbelieving eyebrow at him and he tried again, making a show to clear his throat. “A little,” he admitted.

The boy looked scared. You shrugged nonchalantly.

“I have that effect on people. C’mon, I wanna see if those turtle eggs have hatched yet.”

You grabbed his wrist and led him up the path to the area on the sand where the eggs had been buried the last time your two saw them.

“They’re still not hatched, damnit!” you cursed, letting go of your tight hold on his arm. You swore that the next time you came, they would’ve been, and now you owed Michael your special edition Disney World hoodie.

“Ha! I knew it. That Disney sweater’s gonna look so good in my closet,” he gloated.

“Whatever. I was actually lookin’ forward to seeing the baby turtles, though. I’ve been taking care of them and now I want one.” The pout you tried so hard to conceal was the most pitiful thing Michael had ever seen.

“Bubble, I’ll get you one! We can raise it together….y’know, as friends,” he added, desperate to bring that pretty smile back to your face.

“Really?! Oh, Mike, let’s go to the animal shelters and see if they have any right now!” you exclaimed enthusiastically. You gave him a kiss on the cheek, and although it was honestly platonic on your end, realizing what you did made your stomach go crazy. Looking like the happiest guy on earth, he adjusted your purse on his shoulder and took off your sunglasses, placing them on your forehead. He stretched his hand out for yours and took it gently. He so badly wanted to kis—

“Okay, but can we get another shaved ice first?”

Tags: @simp4eshal @urbanfunkchild @slugstarzz @cndybliss @yenvixx @plumppies @lil6uapa @etherealmikeyj @saiki-enthusiast @kottonkanditits @gyuuchuuu @ggformike @cherubae111 @strangerexee @softchaosdiary505 @devynrulesboisdrool @applehead444 @screamthusiast @Ilyliberiangirl @thrillerpilled @loveposiie @deletedkisses @freakinme @melaninswift

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[peterpansdreamer]

𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐋.

pairing : reader older sister x Jackie Jackson | black!childhoodbsf!reader X jackson 5 - the jacksons! Michael.

a/n : bitch why did I accidentally post this halfway finished so I had to delete it and fully restart..? Oh I’m pissed.

synopsis : where you and Michael swore when you were younger that you'd never act like Jackie and his girlfriend who are practically all over eachother, until a couple years later you prove yourselves wrong.

contains : Olderbrotherfigure! jackie, towards reader. A smidge bit of smut (I’m actually horrible at riding it dawg), some fluff, a lot of kissing, kinda established rls?. Idk yall ending kinda rushed bc im sleepy.

“Eughhh! This is like their 3rd kiss in a hour!” You groaned,a hand running down your face, you were being babysat because lord forbid a 13 year old stays at home myself.. And who had to be the one to babysit you perhaps? None other than your older sister, here was the issue, though. She was currently tongue deep in her boyfriends mouth, and she has been this way for about 30 minutes:

Her boyfriend? Oh, the one and only Jackie Jackson from the Jackson 5.

The only reason you weren’t surprised, because your bestfriend was THE Michael Jackson, well it wasn’t a big deal for you, you saw him more as a bestfriend then the popular upcoming singer, yes you knew he was talented, but at the end of the day, it was Michael.

So that’s how you ended up here, tagging along with your older sister at the Hayvenhurst estate, watching her tongue down her boyfriend while you and Michael had to sit there and watch. “…Jackie can we go outside now..?” you sighed, ‘we’ referring to you and Michael, the sun was beaming, and you did not bring your baiting suit in your baiting suit for no reason.

“…What you don’t like the movie..?” Jackie had finally pulled his lips away from your sister, her arm wrapped tightly around her, you and michael were on one couch, and they were on the other, so you had to raise your voice a tad to talk to him.

“…we watched it like 5 times, man… we ready to go swim or sum.” Michael sighed, pushing himself up on the couch to sit up now.

Jackie groaned now, mumbling sum like ‘why are yall even here..’

“Mmh.. mikey and [name], go change.” Your sister sighed, pushing herself off the couch aswell, walking to the kitchen now, but not before Jackie landed a small tap on her butt.

Ew.

Either way, you and Michael hopped out of your spots on the couch, giggling because yall were finally free from the shackles of watching your siblings make-out. After the two of you changed, you guys practically flew down the stairs, now in your baiting suits , bare feet slapping the tile floors.

And your siblings? Currently back too making out against the island of the kitchen,dressed in their baiting suits, and Jackie having a handful of your sisters ass, and she must be enjoying it because she kept letting out little moans against his mouth.

“…OKAY, CAN WE GO?” You groaned, hands rubbing down your face. Michael looked like he could honestly gag, face turned up every which way. As you slapped your foot against the cold floor.

Your sister tried to abruptly pull away, only to be held in the hands of Jackie’s grasp again, finally pulling her lips away. “Mmm” interrupted by a kiss. “—mhm.. yeah, okay we can go.” She finally started walking towards the door, but not before she stopped at Michael’s head, which was up too about her chest, she starts lightly picking out his hair. “…Woah, Mikey.. ‘s getting long.” She giggled. “You been putting oil in it like I told you?”

“I mean, a little.” He smiled now, the patio door opening now, and revealing their huge pool. You on the other hand, got tossed up in the air by Jackie, you and him running to the pool with you in his arms, and bam! You and him jumping right into the pool. When you two resurfaced, the first thing you did was splash Jackie all over his face, Michael and your sister still dry, giggling at how you technically got thrown into the pool.

“Whaaaa? I thought you wanted to go to the pool?” Jackie caught his breath, flicking a little finger in the pool.

Soon after, Michael and your sister found their way into the pool, calmly and collectively, unlike you and Jackie’s arrival.

A couple hours later, the fun had simmer down, but the four of yall were still in the pool, you and Michael, playing around, a little tired after a few games of Marco Polo, mermaids, and whatever a child plays in the pool, and your siblings?

you’ll never guess.

Making out in the pool now, would they ever stop?

You and Michael finally looked at your siblings now, an annoyed look on both of yall faces. “…if I ever date, I’ll never be that touchy.. that’s so nasty, it’s like they have no decency.” You groaned, your fingers twirling in the water, making small swirlies. “…Man it’s so disgusting, theyre so disgusting!” Michael sighed, flicking a handful of water at them, which made them flinch a little. “Cut that shit out1” you giggled, which earned a laugh from everyone else in the pool aswell.

“Ughhh! You’ll get it once youre in loveeee!” Your sister sung, hands rubbing up and down Jackies chest like he was the upmost ultimate Prince Charming or sum.

“Well, good thing I’ll never be inlove.” Your attitude flew through the roof, as you stepped out the pool, grabbing your towel and going back in the house, Michael followed you soon after.

Little did you know, thats all you were going to be in the next few years.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟕.

The Hayvenhurst estate doorbell rung, your sister tapping her foot against the brick with full irritation. and thats because she was irritated.

She wasnt hereto go lay up under Jackie, or too kiss him or whatever, matter of fact, they completely broke up about two years ago, over some dumb shit they refuse to talk about to others, nor eachother.

So, for the last two years, everytime they see eachother it was always filled with nasty ass attitudes and subtle sneak dissing.

Your sister was only here to come pick you up, since your car was in the shop for the weekend, and you rather have your sister come pick you up then Bill drop you off, since you felt like he desperately needed an off day.

So here she was, waiting for the door to open— and it did? But guess who opened it.

“Girl, ion want yo ass back, you can leave now.” Jackie sarcastically laughed, leaning against the frame of the door.

Oh trust me, she was past wanting him.

“Get the hell back.” she groaned, pushing past him and into the house. “Where’s [name]?” She sighed, looking around the house, no sign of you anywhere downstairs.

“…My little sister..” Jackie started, just to irritate your sister. “Last time i saw her, she was in Michaels room, and im not going up there and messing; with them.. they a little busy.” Jackie sighed, your sister already knowing to what he was suggesting too.

“Goddam! Again? They like little rabbits, they just keep on! I just caught the ass right before I dropped them off here Friday.”

But her? Not giving a fuck, rushed up the stairs, she wasn’t ‘bout to wait in this house with Jackie any longer. She click clacked up the stairs, reaching Michael’s room that was up the hall, slow love makin’ music leaked from the slit under his bedroom door, probably to cover up the absurd sounds coming from the room.

Unfortunately, it didn’t cover much once you got closer.

Your sister groaned once she got to the door, your whimpers and cries on full display now, Jackie made his way up the stairs aswell,stopping at Michael’s door, slowly leaning on the door frame.

You and Michael got together about a year or two ago, somewhere between the middle of Senior year and after graduation, after being best friends so long, over the years the connection of friendship slowly shifted to one of romance, and as you both tried to push the feeling away, it ended up bringing you closer. You can argue that getting with Michael was one of the best things you ever did, though you’ll never voice that because you like keeping him humble.

But, this fucking like rabbits shit didn’t start until like a month ago, when the two of you finally lost your virginities to each other, and realized how beautiful making love to each other was, you guys couldn’t get enough of it, deciding whenever you guys got in that mood, you were bound to do it then and there.

Which also resolved in the two of you getting caught multiple times.

Even Jackie sat down Michael one day, just a heart too heart, when did his brother become such a sex machine?

“…I dunno man, it’s just.. ‘can’t stop.. you know..? It’s beautiful how two bodies can form into one, such a beautiful way to build and keep a connection, I think I should love my girl, whenever and wherever she pleases because that’s our way of keep our connection strong.” Was Michaels response after getting sat down by his brother, getting caught sliding into you while you two were having a ‘pool date’.

Jackie soon realized there was no stopping what was going on here, so he, and the rest of Michael’s brothers, eventually stopped trying.

“M-mmh.. Mikey, right there..!” You whimpered out, nails clawing at Michael’s back, his thrusts slow, loving, making sure you feel every piece of him sliding in and out of you, the friction delicious, not to mention he was huge too? Good God you were going insane.

Michael didn’t speed up, still keeping his deep strokes, making sure you knew how much he deeply truly loved you, peppering small kisses to your neck so he wouldn’t be loud, as he kept his thrusts.

Jackie and your sister heard all of that, God the two of you just couldn’t stop!

“ [Name—]”! Your sister started, banging on the bedroom door, you choked up on a moan, hearing your sister call your name shook you all the way up. “I know yall not fuckin’ in there again!”

You gasped softly, pushing Michael off you, who was equally as shocked as you.

“Uhmm— no..?” You quickly yelled back, letting out a small whimper as Michael slid out of you, but you couldn’t focus on that right now, right now you had to focus on getting dressed. “We were just watching a movie in here, why yall always assume we doin’ stuff in here?” You tried to chuckle out playfully, but you had to catch your breath somehow, from the previous activities, and from trying to jump back in your jeans,

“…mhm, [name], we just heard you moanin’ all up in that room.” Jackie chuckled, his shoulder still leaned against the door frame, as the handle rattled, your sister still trying to barge in.

“Man, that wasn’t her!” Michaels voice was now heard from the other side of the door, his voice normal, since he had a second to catch his breath. “That was the movie!” Michael now glanced at you, nodding his head at the lie, like it was soo smooth.

Suddenly, the door cracked open a bit, a glimpse of Michael’s eye peeking through the slit, finally catching an eye of Jackie and your sister, they can see his shirt was still off, but they didn’t even care to mention it.

“…Mikey, where’s [name]?” Your sister sighed now, hand going to palm her forehead.

Michael glanced back at you, you scurried around the room, desperately looking for your shirt. Michael saw this, and slammed the door in your siblings face, tossing it from the other side of the bed. “[name]—she—she uh…” he sputtered, sliding on his own shirt.

You quickly ran to the door, swinging it open, clothes on, but hair and face clearly disheveled.

“[name]’s right here!” You smiled, trying to put on an innocent act.

Man you looked crazy.

“…yeah, kiss boyfriend goodbye, we outta here.” Your sister chewed her gum, foot continuing to tap on the floor, glancing down at her watch.

Michael quickly came behind you, hands wrapping around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “…does she have to go..?”

“Yes, nigga. Let go of her.”

He groaned, rolling his eyes as he pressed one last goodbye kiss on your lips, signaling you can leave now.

You stepped down the stairs now, a fat ass smile on your face, your sister guiding you in front of her.

“Girl.. yall gotta cut that shit out..” she sighed, opening the front door for you, a small sigh leaving her lips.

As you could do is giggle, biting your lip as you left the house.

“..you’ll get it once you fall inlove.”

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 peterpansdreamer🩰

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 reblogs are appreciated! | no ai is used in this post !

[elliotlyn]

Stop the pressure

Michael Jackson x gn!reader

Synopsis: You join your fiancee at an event and realize he isn't feeling well.

Additional tags: fluff, comfort, Michael has a migraine and you take care of him, Michael being bad at not pushing himself

Author's note: I was imaging this with Dangeous Michael but easily could be any other era.

Taglist: @angelpuppyf4ce, @a-motherfcking-fish

Sighing impatiently, you stared out the tinted windows of the car, frowning at the traffic that was slowly inching forward before looking at your watch again.

You were meant to join your fiancee, Michael Jackson, at a charity event. Originally you were going to meet up with him so you two could go into the event together but LA traffic had different plans.

Resting your chin on your hand you sighed, smoothing out your clothes.

You just hoped you wouldn’t be too late, not keen on having a late entrance.

Eventually the traffic started to clear up, your driver quickly getting you to the event. You were only 5 minutes late.

It was in a hotel and thankfully the outside wasn’t as crowded as it would have been if you got there earlier since most everyone was in the venue by this point.

You quickly entered, walking through the long hallways before you found the door to the event venue, the sound of voices muffled by the door. Gently opening the door, you walked in, your eyes searching for Michael.

There was a stage in the back, the room filled with multiple round tables with chairs around them. By this point everyone was in their chairs, chatting as the speeches hadn’t started yet.

Soon you found Michael. He was sitting at one of the tables closer to the stage but still off to the side, a little hidden. Surprisingly there was no one else at the table. You smiled, walking over.

However the moment you saw him you could tell he wasn’t feeling well.

It wouldn’t be obvious to anyone else, especially since his stylist had already worked their hand on him. He was wearing a red suit jacked with a black button up underneath and black dress pants along with his famous black loafers. His hair was styled neatly, framing his face and he was wearing his sunglasses.

But you could see the tenseness in his shoulders, the thin line of his lip and he was staring down at his lap, his hands clenched together.

Frowning, you went and sat beside him. “Hey I’m sorry I’m late, traffic was a nightmare.”

You could see his hands clench together at your voice, biting his lip. “It’s alright, hasn’t started yet.” His voice was strained and he didn’t look up at all.

Studying him, you started to have an idea of what was going on.

One of the main things Michael had to deal with ever since his commercial with Pepsi was migraines.

They varied in intensity. Some days he could just take a painkiller and chill for a couple hours then be okay but other days he wouldn’t be able to leave the bed, the room pitch black. Sometimes they got so bad he would throw up because of them.

It hurt to see him suffering so much and you always tried your best to help when one came up, getting him water and ice packs or holding back his hair if he got sick.

He was managing it with his doctors but they never seemed to fully go away.

It had been awhile since he had one, this being the first one in a few months.

Taking his hand in yours, you rubbed the back of his knuckles with your thumb gently.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly.

He opened his mouth, looking like he was gearing up to say he was fine before he sighed, biting his lip in thought.

This was one thing Michael was working on, being better at admitting when he wasn’t okay.

He was the type to insist he was okay, to push through and hide when he wasn’t feeling well.

You knew it wasn’t entirely his fault. It came from being in an industry that didn’t accept weakness, that fed on it. An industry that gave no breaks along with a man who was a workaholic and struggled to give himself a break. He was used to pushing through pain and exhaustion.

You were helping him learn it’s okay to take a break and admit when you aren’t doing well.

It also had caused a strain in your relationship a few times, when you could tell he wasn’t doing well but he wouldn’t admit it or accept help.

However he’s been getting a lot better at being honest. At least with you.

Finally he shook his head. “Migraine.” He said softly then shrugged.

It wasn’t a dismissive shrug but more of a ‘I can’t do anything about it right now’ shrug.

You made a noise of sympathy, still stroking his hand.

“Did you take your pain meds?” You asked, still keeping your tone soft.

“Yeah, this morning.” He sighed. “I woke up with the migraine so they’re wearing off by now and I can’t take another one for an hour.”

You sighed, biting your lip as you looked around the room. You knew being here wasn’t going to help his migraine at all, with the bright lights and speeches that were to come.

“We could go home. We don’t have to do this event.” You suggested though you had a feeling it would be a no. Michael had been looking forward to this event and had a speech planned. It was for one of the charities he was very passionate about.

As expected, he shook his head. “I want to at least do my speech.”

‘Stubborn man’ You thought but you didn’t fight him on it, knowing it would be a little pointless. You two could go home after this and you would help him weather the consequences of pushing through.

Soon the event started, Michael wincing and curling up on himself a bit more as the speakers were loud. He held onto your hand a bit tighter.

You felt a bit helpless, knowing there wasn’t much you could do at this time besides be supportive.

Finally his name was called to give a speech. He squeezed your hand before slowly standing up with a wince, walking up to the stage.

He managed his speech fine but you weren’t surprised. It wasn’t his first time pushing through pain.

The only sign that something was wrong was his strained voice with more pauses than usual between sentences and he didn’t look up that often, avoiding looking at the light that was directed at the stage.

He sighed heavily when he sat back down besides you, his head lowered and you could see his eyes were closed as he clenched his fists.

The moment the speeches ended and everyone was allowed to mingle, you grabbed his hand. “We’re going home.” You insisted.

He didn’t even try to fight you on it, letting you drag him out of the venue.

You led him to his car where his driver was already waiting.

Letting Michael get in first, you requested the driver to take you two to Neverland, getting in the car after Michael.

The driver nodded, starting up the car.

As the car started, you gently directed Michael to lay his head down on your lap, wanting him to be as comfortable as possible. He took off his sunglasses, setting them to the side before burying his face in your stomach so he could avoid looking at any light.

You started to massage his neck and shoulders, watching as the scenery passed by. It wouldn’t help the pain go away much but it did help him relax and not tense up as much.

The ride was quiet, the only sounds being your breathing along with the quiet hum of the car. He relaxed in your grip, his breath evening out though you could tell he was still in pain. You were just glad he would finally be able to fully take care of himself now.

You finally arrived home and you gently prodded him, telling him as much.

He sighed in protest before slowly sitting up, putting his sunglasses back on and getting out of the car with a wince.

You took his hand in yours, leading him to the bedroom and having him sit on the bed. You went to the closet, grabbing a comfortable change of clothes for him.

“Ged changed. I’ll be right back.” You said quietly, kissing his forehead. He gave you a strained grateful smile.

You went to the kitchen, grabbing a couple ice packs from the freezer along with a glass of water then you grabbed his painkillers since it was nearly time for his next dose.

Walking back to the bedroom, you gently opened the door to find Michael already laying in bed, his face buried in a pillow. He had closed all the blinds, the room dark.

You would normally find it funny but you couldn’t now when you knew he was in pain.

“I got you some things.” You whispered, closing the door behind you.

He slowly sat up, looking at you with tired eyes and you sighed softly, walking over.

You first handed him his painkiller and the glass of water which he took, drinking half of the water before setting it down on the nightstand.

Next you handed him the ice packs and he smiled gratefully.

“Thank you, you always take such good care of me.” He said, kissing your cheek.

“Of course. It’s what any fiancee should do.” You replied, giving him a kiss back.

You helped him settle under the blankets, putting one of the ice packs on the back of his neck and the other at the top of his head.

He sighed gratefully, closing his eyes.

“Do you want company?” You asked. Sometimes he liked to be left alone to sleep when he had a migraine but other times he didn’t want to be alone.

“Please stay.” He said.

“Of course.” You smiled, settling beside him on the bed.

You laid down, positioning yourself so you could run your hands through his hair, being careful not to accidentally tug.

He took your hand in his, giving it a kiss as another way to say thank you and snuggled into your side.

Smiling, you kissed his forehead before going back to running your hands through his hair.

It didn’t take long before his breath evened out and he fell asleep which you were thankful for. He didn’t always get the rest he needed.

You stayed there until you eventually fell asleep as well, cuddling him.

Thank you for reading this! If you enjoyed it my masterlist is here and my fic requests are open!

[huniijaex]

DAY IN THE LIFE PT. 5

parings: michael jackson x reader , prince and paris x platonic!reader

synopsis: you guys all decide to come collectively together as a family to one of his shows and see him perform. prince and paris had different ideas

warnings: noneeee, lil argument

a/n: I feel like the mjblr is dying fr , jermajesty and jaafar too. i rmb writing for jermajesty like crazy and now look at me😭 haven’t wrote for them in like a month. but everyone is finding other things they like and im happy that u guys are 💖

You woke up, tired from Michael keeping you up at night. He had found some fanfics on Wattpad that he wanted you to read and so he was going to show you each and every one of them. And he was going to read them to you.

Michael was already awake, his cute little glasses on and still reading the fanfics. “Did you sleep at all last night?” You asked.

“No, all this stuff about me is so cool. Do you want to read?” He asked, giving you the puppy eyes, which would’ve worked if they didn’t have another woman’s name in the fanfic.

“Nope. If it ain’t my name, I ain’t reading it. Anyways, go get the kids ready while I make breakfast. We gotta be at rehearsal by 2.” You said, getting up.

He sighed, closing the laptop and getting up. “Then let’s have some us time. We still have a lot of time.” He said, trying to kiss on your neck.

“It’s 12pm.” You deadpanned him.

“Shit.” He cursed, which made you bust out laughing because you never hear him curse.

As you sat all the plates down for breakfast, you heard a bunch of loud and fast footsteps coming through the hotel. It was your babies.

“Mamaaaaa!!” Paris said, coming to you immediately and holding her little arms up. Prince came in too, doing the same thing.

You held your babies in your arms and kissed them. “How’d you guys sleep?” You asked, setting them down in their chairs and putting bibs on them so their outfit wouldn’t get messed up.

“Good, mommy! I had a dream I had all the candy in the world!” Prince said, smiling while eating his food.

“I had a dream about princesses and unicorns, mommy. It better than Prince dream!” Paris said, already choosing violence.

“No it’s not! Mines is better. No one cares about princesses and unicorns.” Prince said.

“No one cares about candy, you loser.” Paris snapped. Prince looked angry and you were here for it. You sat down and ate your breakfast while watching what went down.

“You’re the loser.” Prince snapped back.

“I’m not, doo doo head.”

“You are, ugly head.”

“Dumb boy.”

“Dumb girl.”

“Bootyhole.”

“Fart face.”

“Penis face.” (Avatar ifykyk)

“Alright alright, we don’t call people that, you guys. You know this.” Michael said, interrupting. He looked over at you with a disappointed face.

“And you know not to encourage it.” He said.

“I wasn’t encouraging it.” You said, confused.

“Well, you didn’t stop it.” He replied.

You rolled your eyes, “whatever, im not gonna do this with you today.” You said.

“We’ll talk about it later.” Michael said, getting his share of breakfast.

“No, we’re not gonna talk about it at all. I didn’t do nothing at all.” You said.

“That’s your problem, (Name). You never do anything about it. We’re not kids anymore, we can’t just sit here and watch children argue with a smile on our face because it’s interesting, let alone our children.” He said, pouring his orange juice in a cup.

He had a point so you didn’t argue, you just looked down.

“Don’t cry, mama.” Prince said, giving you a hug. You thought that was so sweet.

“Mommy’s not crying, baby.” You kissed his forehead. “You guys done eating?”

“Yes, mommy! Can we go play with our toys?” Paris asked.

“Of course you can, go ahead.” You said, as you watched your kids put their dishes in the sink and went to go play.

“I don’t mean to make you upset, angel. I just want you to understand that we aren’t those little kids anymore watching others fight while stuffing popcorn in our mouths.” He said, which made you both chuckle.

“I love you, okay?” He told you, and kissed you. You kissed him back.

Hours later, rehearsal was over and it was time for the big show for his tour. You and your kids watched from backstage since the vip section was packed and full of drunk weirdos.

When he started singing, you could swear you heard that little Michael singing as well. You’ve seen him build from the bottom up and you loved that about him.

You loved how he chose you, even in his darkest times. He chose you, and you always chose him. He made sure you knew that he loved you and would always cherish your love and support.

He made sure to remind you that he cared for you, even when you guys were little. You would always love him. You guys always thought that you’d grow old to see your kids grow up.

But while you were thinking, you didn’t realize that your kids escaped from your grasp. And they were on the stage!!

You got up quickly, trying to call them back here as loud and quiet as possible but they just couldn’t hear you.

Michael didn’t seem to be bothered either so you were just about to leave them there, but you realized how dangerous it could be, what if they fall? You trusted Michael but you didn’t trust the stage.

It’s the same stage he fell off from a few years back (😂IFYKYK). So you made your way to the stage, ducking behind all the props and snatched your children and went right back to where you guys were previously.

You wanted to yell at them but after seeing how happy they looked, you couldn’t say anything. You loved how they looked up to Michael the same way you do. The only thing you could do was stay quiet.

Another few hours later, you all were back home safe and sound. The kids were sleep and there you and Michael were, getting red wine from the cabinet and wine glasses.

“To us.” Michael said, holding his glass up.

“To us.” You repeated, clinking your glasses together.

When you guys finished the wine, you both were looking through old boxes and found picture of you when you guys were little.

He adored you just as much as you adores him.

“(Name), I’m so happy I get to spend my whole life with you. You made me feel seen, seen me for me, and just overall supported me in everything.” Michael told you.

“It was you, (Name).”

“It was always you.”

a/n: for vievie @angelbbyunicorn

[theoldstorybook]

✧ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝓐 𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓮𝓽 𝓓𝓲𝓼𝓬𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 ❦ .—.’

Paring: MATURE Michael Jackson x Pregnant Wife reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Oneshots- Fluff•SFW ────────✧

Summary: After returning home from weeks of travelling, Michael is looking forward to nothing more than a quiet night beside you. What begins as an ordinary homecoming quickly turns into one of the most life changing moments of his life when he discovers a secret you’ve been carrying while he was away.

Context: age gap relationship, established relationship, pregnancy reveal, surprise pregnancy, domestic fluff, soft michael, future parents, emotional michael, late night comfort, homecoming, family themes, protective michael, wholesome romance, loving relationship, anticipation, gentle intimacy, slice of life, michael as a father, comfort, domestic life

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Michael came home late at night after weeks away and finds the entire house asleep, exactly the way he expected to. Travelling never gets easier for him no matter how many years he spends doing it, people assume you eventually get used to airports, hotel rooms and constantly living out of suitcases, but Michael has never really been that kind of person. He’s always been a homebody at heart, no matter how exciting the trip is or how successful the work turns out to be, there always comes a point where all he wants is his own bed, his own house, the people he loves waiting for him inside it and most importantly….YOU…..his beautiful wife that never lefts his side, he couldn’t wait to pull you into his arms and take in that floral sent that always puts his mind at ease.

By the time he quietly lets himself through the front door, he exhales , exhausted from the trip. The house is dark, peaceful and he leaves his bags downstairs, straightens a few things absentmindedly as he moves through the house, smiling when he notices little reminders of you everywhere.

Your favourite blanket folded over the couch, a half finished book sitting on the coffee table, a cardigan draped over the back of a chair that he knows you’ll eventually come looking for tomorrow morning. The sight of those ordinary things gave a wave of comfort and warmth in him , they always do remind him that despite any harsh attention words him in life, he’s got a little flower waiting to take him in her arms at home.

After making his way upstairs, he showered and changing into something comfortable, he pushes open the bedroom door carefully, not wanting to wake you, and spots your sleeping form beneath the blankets. Micheal just stands there, watching you sleeping peacefully, chest moving up and down slowly , seeing you asleep in your shared bed after weeks apart pulls a tired smile onto his face almost instantly. GOD you look so beautiful…

He crosses the room, leans down & presses a kiss against your cheek and another against your forehead before moving around to his side of the bed. He slips beneath the blankets and carefully settles behind you, automatically seeking out your warmth the same way he always does after being away. His arm slides around your waist, his face disappearing briefly into your hair as he breathes in the scent he’s missed more than he’ll ever admit out loud. After weeks of concerts, rehearsals & interviews , he feels himself properly relax.

It’s only when his hand settles against your stomach that something catches his attention.

At first he doesn’t think much of it, the thought barely registers because he’s tired, half asleep already, and his mind is still somewhere between airports and time zones, But a few seconds later his eyes slowly open again. His hand remains where it is while his brain quietly tries to make sense of the feeling, after a moment he shifts slightly, brushing his hand across the same spot again, more consciously this time, he makes sure to keep the movement subtle & careful not to wake you.

His brow furrows immediately.

No way……..

For several seconds he simply lies there staring into the darkness, trying to understand why a strange feeling of familiarity has suddenly settled over him. Then, memories from the past several weeks begin resurfacing. Little things and details that seemed small. You becoming tired more easily, the sickness you’d brushed off repeatedly, the way you’d seemed distracted during some of your phone calls and that doctor’s appointment you’d mentioned briefly before changing the subject. He remembered the oversized clothes that had slowly become your preferred choice lately. Separately, none of those things had meant much but together, however, they begin forming a picture so obvious that Michael actually feels his breath catch in his throat.

He slowly pushes himself up onto one elbow and looks down at you.

You remain completely asleep still peaceful, his gaze lingers there for a moment before drifting downward again Micheal gently removes the covers untill your stomach was visible.

ROUND…….a small bump…..

He looked back to your face, then downward once more.

Your pregnant

Your PREGNANT

A few minutes pass and he doesn’t move, he just keeps staring , his mind racing while the rest of him remains perfectly still. Because the very wish he has ever wanted with you when you promised him you’d love to bare his children, to be the mother of his children and to give him as many as he wants is right infront of him.

A baby

His hand remains resting lightly against your stomach while he sits there staring in complete disbelief. Michael has spent his entire life standing in front of thousands of people. He’s accepted awards, performed for stadiums and lived through moments most people could never imagine, yet somehow none of those experiences prepared him for this. None of them prepared him for sitting in a dark bedroom in the middle of the night while you the women he loves deeply sleeps peacefully beside him while carrying his child and realizing that the future he’s been imagining for years may has quietly arrived while he was away.

A smile appears before he even realizes it, small at first, then larger. Until he finds himself covering part of his face with one hand because the emotion building inside him feels ridiculous and so intense. He thinks about all those phone calls, all those times he’d asked whether you were alright, all those moments where he’d felt like something was different but couldn’t understand why and it all makes sense. The more he thinks about it, the more emotional he becomes. Then frustration slides in because you’ve been carrying this secret alone for weeks.

Attending appointments, hearing news, experiencing all of these changes and he wasn’t there. The realization softens some of his excitement with guilt. Guilt from leaving you all by your self, and not standing beside you, his wife that’s carrying a life he’s always dreamed of. He wished he’d been sitting beside you in those waiting rooms. Whishes he’d been there to experience every part of it with you instead of finding out accidentally in the middle of the night. If only he’d come sooner, though he understood why you haven’t told him over the phone. He had a feeling that you didn’t inform him because of his work, you didn’t want him overwhelmed and panicking and you were right he would have been so overwhelmed with joy and panic over this news.

Still, none of that changes the overwhelming happiness slowly taking hold of him. His gaze keeps drifting back toward your sleeping face then towards your stomach on that beautiful bump that has that bundle of life growing inside you. With all the harsh and negative part of attention he gets , he can already feel himself becoming protective and possessive . Already imagining things and planning for you and his baby.

Wondering what the baby might look like, whether they’ll have your smile or inherit his curls. Whether they’ll be loud or quiet or maybe they’ll love music and laugh like you. His thoughts run so far ahead of him that he eventually has to stop himself. Yet every time he does, another smile threatens to appear and silent tears start to run down his face while he gazes longingly at you and your stomach his large warm hand still covering the bump with his thump caressing it gently. A small laugh escaping his mouth, still in disbelief.

Eventually the excitement settles into something quieter and the questions stop coming, the nervous laughter eases, even the tears begin drying, though every now and then a few tears shill shed. Carefully, he leans forward and presses a lingering kiss against your forehead & another against your cheek & another on your shoulder. His hand comes up to brush a few loose strands of hair away from your face.

“Oh, baby…” he whispers softly. A quiet laugh escapes him before he can stop it.

Shaking his head to himself, Michael slips back beneath the blankets and gently gathers you closer without disturbing you. One arm slides beneath your pillow and settles comfortably beneath your head while the other wraps around your waist, his hand instinctively finding its way back to your stomach. His thumb brushes slowly across the fabric of your nightgown. Tender and Protective.

He buries his face into your hair, breathing in the familiar scent that had felt so far away only hours ago. A few soft kisses find your shoulder. Another against the back of your neck. Michael closes his eyes, his hand remains over your stomach breathing in and out slowly. After a long moment, he leans forward slightly and murmurs against your ear.

“God…”

A small breath of a laugh follows.

“Thank you, baby doll.”, His voice wavers slightly,

“Thank you so much.”

His arm tightens around you just a little.

“I love you so much.” He sighed, peppering small kisses on your ear, his thumbs drawing small circles and shapes on the bump.

[sylvette777]

dealing with your drunk and sappy boyfriend jaafar

“Babyyy,” he slurs, he reeked of alcohol. His friends dropped him back home not too long ago as they whispered a ‘good luck’ to you. “Yes jaaf, I’m here, but it’s midnight and we need sleep.” You turned to face him the opposite way of the bed.

“Well, I need you actually.” You can just tell a crooked smile is plastered across his face as he attempts a stupid pick up line at you. “Jaafar.” You threaten. “Whaaat?” He says, genuinely confused on why you weren’t letting him show you his love. “You hate me? Because I’m drunk? M’sorry.” He whines, face pressed into your neck, hand slithered around your waist from behind.

You manage to get out of his hold and flip your lamp on that was on your nightstand, he grumbles, eyes squinting. “Baby turn the lights off—ughhh my head!” He complains, and you do as he says with an annoyed grumble. “I wanted to see what type of Jaafar I’m working with tonight.” You murmur. You attempt to close your eyes—but it doesn’t last long. You hear quiet whimpering.

“Baby, I just love you so much.” He drapes an arm around your waist. “And I think about it a lot but—if one of us has to sacrifice ourselves for the other—I would in a heartbeat because—“ You try to stifle your laugh, but you can’t, and so you laugh in his face which only causes him to whimper some more. “Y/n! I’m being so serious.” He warns, annoyance lingering in his tone and the smell of alcohol from his breath.

“Why do you think about that kinda stuff?” You ask him, in genuine curiosity. “I think it’s ’cause I wouldn’t live in a world without you—I believe that it is not only mentally but physically impossible.” You reach your hands up to cup his face, thumb wiping his tear stricken eyes.

“I hear you, I hear you.” You say, pressing a light kiss to his forehead. You were enjoying this to say the least, yes he was very affectionate and had a way with words when he was sober—but hell, he’s William Shakespeare off some shots.

“And also—“ he starts, and you just inhale. “Will our souls find each other? In every lifetime, y/n. It’s very—“ his voice cracks before more tears spill over, and you pout bringing him into a tight hug. “It’s important yes, I know—we’ll always find each other Jaafar, I’m wherever you are.” You smile, and that seems to calm him down for now.

His head falls into your lap, “I want them to put us back on this earth at the same time in our next life, if there is one.” He whimpers, biting his bottom lip in attempt to contain the tears. All of this honestly just made you come to one big realization, he’s a sappy drunk. You smile to yourself, it was cute.

“And they will.” You comfort. “For our souls are not to be separated, we’ll go mad without each other.” You finish. And he grins, “will you rub my back?” he questions, and you let out an all knowing laugh. “Lay on your stomach you big baby.”

“Wait but I want to kiss you before—“ Your finger immediately flies to his lips, “nuh uh, your breath.” He frowns—IMMEDIATELY. “okay, okay—one kiss—one.” You warn.

It’s been more than one kiss.

“Are you finally ready for bed?” You scoff, and he nods. Rose cheeks, and a stupid smile. “Yep, will you rub my back now?” You roll your eyes. “Come on.”

two posts in one day, I’m effing amazing. Omg also excuse my grammar it gets so shitty whenever I write fics omg I’m embarrassed. Anyways continue to leave requests and always interact!! Love you all lots like polka dots, mwah mwah.

[thebrownsugababe]

Mami ˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗ Jaafar Jackson

Jaafar Jackson x Reader

Synopsis: Basically you trying to get your workaholic husband to come to bed and him being cute. That's the plot.

Tags: Married Fluff, Wife Reader, Jaafar is a Workaholic, Slight Suggestive Material, Allusions to Sexual Themes, J Showing His Latin Side.

WC: 1.5k

"You need to sleep, J." Your voice is stern but soft and sympathetic, it carries a growing raspiness that tells the time without a clock. You know that he's still awake in part because of something he can't seem to help, his nature.

A stillness floats throughout the house that only night can gift. You cross your arms across your chest that's clad in your plush, pink robe; leaning against the table in your husbands work space simultaneously.

You watch him with eyes that carry the wound-down look of the midnight hour but not exactly sleepiness. He's scanning meticulously over the expansive wall of information in front of him, twirling a sharpie between his fingers. His feet are at home but his mind is somewhere swimming lap after lap in the myriad of information and ideas in his mind.

Your husband is a perfectionist, this you know. But sometimes, a lot of the time, he needs someone to snap him out of it. Once he's dedicated himself to something, he eats, sleeps and breathes it. He'd stay up until the sunrise shines her amber light through his office window. Dabbling notes of information that only he could find or trying to get that one dance move perfect.

That's what he would do, if you didn't show up to pull him out of his own sense of commitment. Which is exactly what you're doing, and have been doing ever since he began working on the biopic.

Your voice pulls him out of his own head, in which he was buried under many, many layers of thought. He turns to you, his ears perk up as if he hadn't even realized you had entered the room. "I've just got a few more notes to write down." He offers you a soft smile that doesn't quite match the scene around him or the expression on your face.

On one hand he's happy to see you, on the other hand he wants to set a pacifying tone in advance before you can get too upset.

You go through this routine every couple nights. Not every night, he's too addicted to you for that to be the case. But some days, all it takes is for the right idea to pop into his head and he's gone for hours. He has an artist's eyes, so anything can spark a bonfire of brainstorming. Then it's a cycle of creating, trashing, then building back up again that has him working until pm becomes am.

You don't budge. "It's one in the morning." The look in your eyes doesn't let him off the hook. The last thing you want is him working himself into the ground. You don't want to look at him after all of this in a few months and the spark is gone from his eyes.

Because that's what neglecting self will get you, and he will, he'll neglect himself to get this role perfect. But you care more about the behind the scenes than what's in front of the camera, because that's where the two of you live.

Jaafar softly sits the maker between his fingers on the table. He stalks over to you wearing a plotting smile that all but pulls his cheeks to his ears. No matter the hour his smile is never less bright, even under drowsy eyes.

He lazily snakes one hand around your waist, then the other. The steady strength of his arms enclose around your frame as he pulls you flush against his body. "Five more minutes." His voice is gruff and deepened with a tiredness that he doesn't want to admit is overtaking him.

His clothes cushion you against his body, black sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt. Despite the hour the cotton fabric still smells like soap and softener. But your favorite note is his signature scent that rides like a warm musk on top of the aforementioned smells.

His dark curls have long since lost the shape he put them in this morning and have begun to spill towards his face. You want to smile, but you're fighting it, this is a serious matter. So much so that you have to pick a random corner in the room to look at instead of his eyes, because if you do it's all over. The way he's holding you against his body is making avoiding eye contact less than easy.

You press your lips together to keep from smiling but the smile in your eyes gives you away.

A laugh that sounds like sunshine shakes his chest at your expression; he finds you scrunched eyes and pinched lips painfully cute. Jaafar buries the warmth of his face into your neck like that's him coming home. "Please, mami." You can hear the pout that his lips have poked into, his breath is hot against your skin. If you sign off on him spending a few more minutes working, then he can bear to do it.

Your hand climbs up the soft material spreading across his back to bury your fingers in his hair. It's soft and thick and his curls spiral around your digits like every part of him is drawn to your touch. It's an instinct, a second nature reaction to when he engulfs you with his body like this.

His words tickle the ear he's nestled next to and vibrate down the inside of your skin. The pet name makes parts of your body buzz that you'd love for him to tend to if he'd leave this office. "No, baby. All of this will be here tomorrow." Your voice is gentle but stern, you lead him to making the right decision with your words, or try to.

"Please, mami." His voice is more whiny this time as his arms wrap tighter around your waist. You stand on your toes as he pulls you deeper into space that you didn't realize was still between your bodies. His cheek rests on the plush collar of your robe as he smears his face over your soft skin. The feeling makes you catch your entire bottom lip between your teeth to keep from giving into his antics.

Silence from you, still you don't budge. You know that he's passionate about this project, but Jaafar's passion can run deeper and burn hotter than other people's. He won't sleep, he'll forget to eat. You know the day will come when he's thanking you for forcing him to rest. But for now it feels like training a puppy.

He hears your silence and registers it, the tone of your unspoken words causes him to shift to being less adamant on staying up. He already planned on listening to you and coming to bed anyway. But if you would afford him a few more minutes of work, it was worth a shot. Plus, he likes to play this game, and he knows that you do to.

The skin on your neck is pleasantly hot and still soft from the bath you took less than an hour ago; you smell of toasty vanilla. The crook of your neck is his favorite furnace to snuggle by. "Please, mami, please." His tone is more joking this round of please, but still serious enough that he'd scribble down a few more things if you let him.

His voice is so soft that it slips beneath your skin and to your bones without resistance. Achieving a level of sweetness that only he can emanate and you can almost taste it.

He finally pulls his face from nuzzling into your neck and looks at you; though his arms don't migrate from holding you against him. "Five more minutes, then I'll be done."

You sigh, but your face isn't tightly bound enough to display any real anger. "Okay." You fold. You reach a hand up to gently caress his jaw and he nods into your touch. "How are you gonna make it up to me?" Now it's your turn to pout. Even though he only comes to bed late half of the nights of the week; you still gently remind him that he has a wife that wants his time and affection.

"I made brunch reservations for tomorrow at that place you like." He presses a quick kiss to your lips, then another that's not so quick. It's sleepy and lazy but both of you have the way around each other's mouths memorized. He can feel you smiling against his lips and it tells him he's in the clear.

He hovers just over your lips when he pulls away, his hot breath fans your cheeks. "And I can do some other things that you like to pay for your patience." His cheeks pull into that prince-charming smile. His voice purrs from the back of his throat with something that surely was activated by the hot slick of your lips. The spell of nighttime has something to do with it as well.

You finally grant him the gift of your smile, and he receives it with warmth in his chest. "I like that." You whisper, forehead pressed into his. "Now don't show up in an hour talkin bout being too tired." You warn him and he likes the tone of voice you do it in.

That gets a laugh from him and the sound bounces all around you and into your ears like warm honey. "I promise."

[tinkerapples]

Interviews are hard.

dangerous era! michael jackson x wife! female reader

summary. 1995, you and michael do a joint interview on primetime with diane sawyer—it’s going great, until it isn’t.

warning. uncomfortable & invasive questions.

content. angst, fluff, romance, comedy, slightly suggestive (no explicit nsfw) you and michael have been married for quite some time now—first interview together! you and michael are so in love...makes me feel single too. 😅😂

taglist. @angelxcs

———————

1995.

The studio lights had not yet reached their full brightness, but already the room hummed with quiet preparation.

Cameramen adjusted focus, assistants whispered into headsets, someone counted cables while another carefully dabbed powder onto Diane Sawyer’s face under the glaring lamps at the makeup station.

It was all routine—professional, organized, almost mechanical.

Yet, sitting together on the cream-colored loveseat just a few feet away, you and Michael somehow managed to dismantle every ounce of professionalism the crew tried so hard to maintain.

Michael looked impossibly handsome in a deep red silk button-up tucked neatly into tailored black slacks, the sleeves rolled just enough to reveal his wrists, his wedding band catching every stray beam of light whenever he gestured.

His shorter, layered wolf cut framed his face softly, a few strands refusing to stay tucked behind his ears as they curled against his cheeks.

Beside him, your dress mirrored the same rich crimson, elegant without trying too hard, your own wedding ring glimmering whenever your fingers absentmindedly played with his.

Neither of you seemed aware—or perhaps neither of you cared—that every member of the crew could see exactly what was happening.

“You’re wearing my favorite color,” he murmured, pretending to straighten an invisible wrinkle near your shoulder only to brush his knuckles against your neck instead.

“Mm… that’s funny,” you answered with an amused smile, “because I seem to remember you saying every color becomes your favorite when I wear it.”

Michael clutched his chest dramatically. “Well, because it’s true, mama…”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop smiling as he kissed the back of your hand, making several crew members exchange exhausted glances.

Someone behind one of the cameras groaned.

“They’re worse than teenagers,” another crew member whispered.

“I know,” someone answered. “It’s kinda adorable but like eugh…”

“They’ve been like this all morning.”

“I don’t think they’ve stopped touching each other even once.” One of them said whilst rolling his eyes.

“I’m married and I feel single…jeez..” One of the producers murmured out.

A production assistant called out from across the studio, signalling that there were only a few minutes left before cameras would begin rolling.

Michael was still smiling at something you had whispered moments earlier when you reached over without thinking, your fingertips finding the slightly crooked collar of his bright red button-up.

"Hold still," you murmured with a tiny shake of your head, smoothing the fabric flat against his neck with practiced familiarity. "Honestly… I don't know how you do it."

Michael blinked innocently. "Do what?"

"Wrinkle yourself," you replied, carefully straightening the other side of his collar before brushing away an imaginary speck of lint from his shoulder.

"Every single interview. Every award show. Every photograph. It's as though you wrestle your shirt five minutes before anyone turns a camera on." He laughed softly while watching you fuss over him, completely content to let you continue.

Your hands lingered just beneath his jaw as you admired your work with a satisfied nod. "There…" you whispered. "Much better." Your smile softened. "You look awfully handsome in this color."

Michael's eyebrows lifted immediately. "Just handsome?" he asked, feigning heartbreak as he placed a dramatic hand over his chest.

"Mm-hm." You bit back a grin. "Very handsome."

"Only very?" His eyes sparkled mischievously.

"I was hoping for devastatingly handsome... breathtaking... irresistible..."

You laughed under your breath. "Don't push your luck."

Michael leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Maybe I should wear red more often."

You tilted your head. "Oh?"

"Well..." His grin widened into one that immediately warned you he was about to say something outrageous. "...I was wearing red the day our son was conceived."

A collective chorus of horrified groans erupted across the studio.

"Oh, come on!"

"Michael!"

"I did not need to know that!"

One sound technician dramatically ripped his headphones off while another covered both ears with exaggerated panic. "Nope! Nope! That's enough!"

You gasped in mock scandal before bursting into helpless laughter, lightly smacking Michael's arm.

"You cannot say things like that before we're about to go live!"

Michael simply burst into delighted laughter, shoulders bouncing as he leaned into you, completely unashamed.

You covered your face for only a moment before laughing just as hard, unable to believe he had actually said it aloud.

"You are unbelievable," you whispered, shaking your head while trying—and failing—to look scandalized.

"What?" he asked with the sweetest expression imaginable. "It's true."

"Michael!" you laughed, giving his chest another playful shove. "There are people here."

"I know," he replied matter-of-factly.

He reached for your waist, drawing you closer without thinking, while you slipped your hands naturally around his forearms.

"You're lucky you're cute," you teased.

"No," he corrected softly, his smile melting into something much more tender as he looked into your eyes. "I'm lucky you're my wife."

Your expression softened instantly. "Well… that's a little better."

"Only a little?" he whispered to you, grinning.

"Mm…" you hummed teasingly. "Maybe."

Michael couldn't help but a quick kiss, gentle and brief, barely more than a lingering brush of his lips against yours before you smiled into it.

The entire crew erupted.

"Oh, come on!"

"They're doing it again!"

"Can someone separate these two until we're live?"

The floor manager pinched the bridge of his nose before finally clapping his hands together. "Alright, lovebirds! Places! We're rolling in thirty!"

Neither of you looked remotely embarrassed.

Michael merely squeezed your hand once before both of you settled into your chairs, your wedding bands catching the warm studio lights as your fingers reluctantly slipped apart.

The floor manager raised his hand. "Stand by... ten... nine... eight..." The studio gradually fell into silence, cameras gliding into position. "...seven... six... five..." Michael glanced sideways at you one last time, smiling so softly it almost made you laugh again.

"...four... three..." Diane Sawyer walked calmly onto the set with her notes in hand, greeting the crew before taking her seat opposite the two of you.

"...two..." She adjusted her microphone, smiled warmly toward the cameras, and folded her hands in her lap.

The red light blinked on.

Everything was live.

———————

Diane Sawyer welcomed viewers with practiced elegance before turning toward both of you with a warm smile, and immediately the atmosphere shifted into something calmer.

“So,” Diane began warmly, “Dangerous has become an incredible success. Michael… how are you feeling now that it’s finally out in the world?”

Michael smiled bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck before glancing toward you as if drawing courage from your presence.

“Uh…” he chuckled softly. “It’s… it’s been wonderful. I worked very hard on it, y’know? And… I just hope people feel the love I put into it.”

He said as he instinctively reached for your hand, squeezing it. You smiled.

“And you’re finally getting some rest?” Diane asked.

“Oh…” Michael laughed, shaking his head. “No, not really.”

You giggled beside him.

“This man don’t know what rest is.”

Michael pointed toward you with an exaggerated expression of offense. “See? She’s already exposing me.”

“I am,” you nodded seriously before smiling. “He’ll say he’s taking a nap and then I’ll find him three hours later writing lyrics on the kitchen counter.”

“I get inspired!” he protested with a grin.

The entire studio laughed.

Diane smiled before turning toward you. “And how is motherhood treating you?”

Immediately your expression softened into something impossibly tender.

“Oh…” you breathed. “It’s exhausting.”

Michael burst into laughter before nodding enthusiastically. “Very exhausting.”

“But it’s the happiest I’ve ever been.” You said as you squeezed Michael’s hand.

“And your little boy?” Diane asked. “How’s he doing?”

You and Michael looked at each other.

The silence lasted barely a second before both of you dissolved into laughter.

“Oh gosh…” you said between giggles.

“He…” Michael laughed harder, covering his mouth. “He got his daddy’s lungs that’s for sure…”

You managed through your laughter. “That baby can sure cry loud.”

“So loud.” Michael echoed.

“For hours.”

You wiped at the corners of your eyes, still smiling. “There was one night…” you said. “He just wouldn’t stop crying.”

Michael nodded dramatically. “Nothin’ worked.”

He started checking things off on his fingers.

“We checked his diaper.”

“Fed him.”

“Rocked him.”

“Sang to him.”

He shook his head with a smile. “Nothing could make that boy stop crying.”

“So…” Michael shrugged innocently. “We did everything to make him stop and we found out that he will…if we started dancing.”

Diane blinked. “Dancing?”

You nodded with complete sincerity. “We put music on. And danced around the living room with him in Michael’s arms.”

Michael demonstrated a tiny shoulder movement that made you laugh all over again, making you think about the memory when he started moonwalking with your son in his arms.

“I’d hold him and move just like this—I don’t know why,” he admitted. “He just… stopped crying.”

“He stared at us like we were complete idiots.” You giggled out.

“And then he fell asleep.” Michael said with a shrug, laughing.

The room erupted into laughter again.

“I think,” you smiled warmly, “he was embarrassed enough by our dancing that he decided sleep was the better option.”

Michael leaned his forehead against your shoulder, laughing so hard he couldn’t answer.

For a while, everything stayed light. They asked about balancing family with touring, about sleepless nights, about favorite lullabies. Michael admitted he often hummed melodies that would later become songs. You confessed that he was far more emotional with your son than anyone expected.

“He cries more than the baby sometimes,” you teased.

“Really?” Diane prodded.

Michael laughed, nodding at your statement. “Oh yeah, it’s true. I just suddenly start crying…I just can’t believe how happy I am right now…”

He squeezed your hand in his, making you smile and your cheeks warm.

The conversation continued comfortably until it didn’t.

Diane folded her notes together. “There have been…a lot of rumors.”

Michael’s smile faded just slightly. “Mm.”

“Some people say you sleep in separate bedrooms.”

You blinked before looking toward Michael. “…What?”

Michael turned toward you with the same confused expression. “…No? We’re married…we sleep in the same bed…”

Diane continued.

“People also wonder whether you’re actually intimate as husband and wife.”

Neither of you could stop yourselves from laughing outright.

Michael leaned back in disbelief, rubbing his forehead. “Oh my goodness…”

You shook your head, trying unsuccessfully to stop laughing. “Uh…I don’t know how to answer that without…answering that.”

Diane remained composed.

“There are also people questioning whether your son is biologically Michael’s.”

Michael looked at you again, his eyes impossibly wide before a grin slowly spread across his face. “…Then I guess…” he shrugged dramatically, “…she would be Billie Jean.”

You covered your mouth, laughing so hard you nearly doubled over.

“Well, is she?” Diane asked seriously, making you two look around in disbelief at her seriousness.

“What? Of course not. If you saw our baby boy, you’d see he has my eyes and Michael’s smile.” You said softly with a grin, Michael nodded at that, equally smiling.

Even several crew members snorted behind the cameras.

Diane pressed forward anyway.

“There are rumors you’re already pregnant again.” “…I’m not,” you answered politely, shaking your head.

“And…” she continued, somehow even more seriously, “…there are people who still believe the two of you remain virgins.” Complete silence.

Then both of you looked at one another.

Michael’s eyebrows slowly climbed higher and higher until they practically disappeared beneath his bangs. “…We…have…” He pointed toward you, then toward himself “…a baby.”

You nodded, confused. “…A whole baby.”

Michael looked back toward Diane. “…He didn’t…uh…” He gestured vaguely toward the air. “…He didn’t just…appear like poof!”

You both burst into helpless laughter again, unable to process the absurdity, Michael hiding his face in his hands while you leaned against his shoulder.

Even members of the crew were visibly trying not to laugh, one cameraman lowering his head entirely.

The laughter disappeared almost instantly when Diane’s voice became noticeably sharper.

“There are also many people who believe you married Michael Jackson for his money…for his fame…and that this marriage is ultimately a carefully constructed publicity arrangement. Is there any truth to that?”

Everything became still.

You didn’t answer.

Michael felt your fingers tighten around his hand before he even noticed the tears collecting in your eyes.

His expression changed immediately.

“What kind of…” he started quietly before sitting forward. “…What kind of question is that?” His voice had lost every trace of politeness.

“This is my wife you’re talking to!” He raised his voice, glaring.

Diane calmly responded. “It’s what people are asking.”

“I don’t care what people are asking,” Michael snapped, the hurt and anger in his voice making it shake. “That’s—”

You squeezed his hand gently.

He stopped speaking immediately.

You took a slow breath, your eyes lowered into your lap before finally looking back toward Diane, tears already slipping down your cheeks despite your best effort to remain composed as the camera zoomed in on you.

“Um…” Your voice cracked almost immediately. “…It hurts.” You laughed softly through tears, embarrassed by your own crying.

“It…it really hurts hearing things like that because…” You wiped your face quickly. “…because they’re so…wrong.”

You glanced down at your wedding ring, turning it gently with your thumb. “I’m…I’m already a very insecure person.”

Another tear escaped despite your smile.

“I read things sometimes—I know I shouldn’t…but sometimes I do, and people say that I’m…not pretty enough for him…or not talented enough…or…or that he could’ve married anyone else in the world.”

Your breathing hitched.

“…And…sometimes those things…they get to me. They really do.” The studio had become so quiet as the crew felt horrible for you.

“But…” You smiled through your tears before turning toward Michael. “…Every single morning without fail…”

Your voice softened. “…every single day, before anyone else says anything…Michael tells me he loves me.”

Michael’s own eyes were already beginning to shine.

“He tells me I’m beautiful when I don’t believe it. He tells me he’s lucky…and…and he says it with this…” You laughed through another tear.

“…this absolute certainty that…that I start believing him instead of everyone else.”

Your fingers intertwined with his completely now. “Because…” You looked directly into his eyes. “…he knows me more than anybody else ever could.” Your voice trembled.

“…And if the person who knows me the most…the person who’s seen every part of me, even at the days where I’m at my worst…still looks at me like…” You smiled at him shakily.

“…like I’m the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him…” You shook your head softly.

“…then why should anyone else’s opinion matter?”

Your thumb stroked across his knuckles.

“…I’m…I’ve never been more certain of anything in my entire life…”

Another tear rolled down your face as your smile became impossibly gentle.

“…I am utterly…and completely…in love with him.”

You laughed, sniffling, you squeezed his hand tightly. “I love you.” You said directly to him, with such firmness.

“I love you too.” He whispered to you, making you cover your eyes and cry.

For several long seconds, neither of you spoke.

Michael simply stared back at you with an expression so heartbreakingly tender it looked almost too private for television.

His lips trembled into the smallest smile before he quietly reached into his shirt pocket, unfolding his familiar black sunglasses with slightly shaking hands and slipping them over his eyes, though they did little to hide the tears already streaming beneath the dark lenses.

He took your hand in both of his, bowed his head, then wrapped an arm protectively around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest with extraordinary care as though shielding you from every cruel word ever written or spoken.

When he finally looked toward Diane again, his voice was gentle but firm, carrying an unmistakable finality. "I… I think we're done now."

No anger remained in his tone anymore—only exhaustion and heartbreak. "Thank you… but… we're done."

Without waiting for another question, he stood while keeping you close against him, one hand resting protectively at your back.

.

.

.

Note: Just a little something before the next fic! 😆 I wrote this just now so my apologies if it’s quite janky. Much love to you all ❤️

Edit: Just fixed typos 🫠🫠🫠

[nnyeinu]

౨ৎ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐒

𑣲⋆ bad! era michael jackson 𝑥 f! reader ⠀₊⠀ ׁ⠀ word count — 767

summary : in which you cancel your plans last minute to nurse your husband back to health.

includes : fluff, marriage, kissing, sick michael, etc

based on this request

m.list

𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧 before he was shoved back into bed and drowned in a pile of blankets.

you wouldn’t let him.

he sniffled lightly, watching you walk back in the bedroom with a bottle of medicine.

“baby,” he said hoarsely, “m’fine, rea—“

“say ‘aah’” you cut in, holding a spoonful of dark liquid to his mouth which Michael could already assume from looks alone it was going to be terribly bitter.

his eyes looked up at you, a frown breaking across his lips.

he opened his mouth to protest, but you beat him to it.

“your fever is at 102 degrees,” you reminded him, ushering the spoon toward him once again. “drink up.”

he reluctantly closed his eyes and opened his mouth, wincing once he swallowed and the taste registered.

it had truly tasted how it looked— bitter despair.

when he opened his eyes again, you were looking at him, faint traces of a coy smile on your face.

“Nicely done.” you cooed, “that wasn’t so hard, huh?”

Michael only shook his head, laughing softly under his breath.

but then once his laughter subdued, he looked over at you more seriously, watching as you began to put everything away.

you were still in that fitted, short dress that caught light from the room chandelier every time you moved,

your hair that still held lingering scents of hairspray and cascaded down your back in gloss ribbons,

and your makeup— lustrous, wispy lashes with glossed mocha nude lips.

Aside from replacing your Christian Louboutins with your cozy animal house slippers, everything on you served as a reminder that you had casted away your plans for tonight at the last minute because your husband had come down with a fever.

“your friends are probably wondering where you are.” he murmured.

you didn’t respond immediately, nor did you meet his gaze as you stored the medicine in the bedrooms cupboards.

“i can take care of myself.” he added, pushing himself up to rest against the headboard.

“Lay down,” you said simply, walking back over to guide him down with one hand on his shoulder.

Michael exhaled, settling back into the covers as he continued to search for your eyes, his hand weakly reaching for yours that now rested on the bedside.

“I'd hate to be the reason you’re canceling,” he admitted. “Go have fun, I'll be fine.”

finally, your eyes flickered over to him.

“You're a patient, you shouldn’t worry about those kinds of things right now.”

“I'm your husband first and foremost, am I not?” he tugged lightly on your hand. “You work hard enough already, go enjoy yourself.”

“Yes, you’re my husband,” you adjusted the blankets on him once more, tucking him in thoroughly, “but as your wife, I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Michael looked at you silently for a few moments.

as much as your admission tugged at his heartstrings, he couldn’t help but feel bad.

he looked away, his hands resting over his chest.

“You're going to get bored.”

“i’m very much engaged taking care of you.”

his eyes flickered back to you, slightly narrowed.

“you just always have to have the last word, don’t you?”

you smiled, patting his cheek gently before resting your hand on his forehead, “you’re only now realizing?”

it appears you truly hadn’t been upset, that you didn’t secretly resent him for ruining your night.

michaels expression softened slowly, a sheepish smile curling upon his lips because he felt he could enjoy being taken care of by his sweetheart without feeling shameless about it.

he let out a sigh, closing his eyes although a smile lingered on his face.

“i hate being sick.”

“i know.” you hummed, carefully swiping stray curls from his face before you leaned down to give a quick kiss to the side of his face, a faint mark the shape of your lips taking place like a token.

his eyes opened and his arms raised immediately, refusing your acts of affection.

“what are you doing? you’ll get sick!” he exclaimed to which you only laughed.

“what’s wrong?” you asked obliviously, trying to pry his hands away, “maybe i can take your sickness away.”

the absurdity of your words made him give a laugh of his own.

“through a kiss? that isn’t how it works,”

“what’s the harm in trying?”

you managed to get past his arms, pressing your lips against his to which once it landed, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

when you eventually backed away, looking so notoriously smug, michael could only smile.

“you’re something else.” he said softly.

© nnyeinu

[xwixnk]

Quiet

Jermajesty x quiet! reader

Highschool au!

Summary: Your boyfriend Jermajesty walks with you to class and defends you because people say you look mean because of your rest bitch face and neutral expression.

The school hallway was loud as usual. Lockers slamming, students laughing, sneakers squeaking against the floor. In the middle of it all, you walked like you didn't care with headphones and have neutral expression.

Most people passing by, it looked like a resting expression that said 'Someone pissed her off' A few students whispered as you passed. “She always looks mad” “Yeah, like she hates everybody.” You didn’t react.

What they didn’t notice was the boy walking right beside her Jermajesty. He leaned slightly toward you, hands in his hoodie pockets, walking slow enough to match your pace.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said casually. You glanced at him, still expressionless. “Morning.” He smiled like that was enough for him. “You slept okay, baby?” You nodded once. “Yeah.” He nodded smiling.

A group of students walked past and one of them muttered a little too loudly, “Why does she always look so mad?” Jermajesty heard it. You heard it too and kept walking, Jermajesty didn’t. He stopped mid step. “Hey,” he called out. The group turned. He tilted his head, “That’s just her face, alright?” One of them shrugged. “I’m just saying-”

“Nah,” he cut in gently but firmly. “Don’t say it like it’s something wrong, she ain't mad." The group awkwardly moved on. He turned back to you like nothing happened.

“People are weird,” he said softly, falling back into step beside you. You took one headphone off slightly. “You didn’t have to say anything.”

He looked at you like that was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. “Yes I did, baby. I’m not letting people talk about you like that.”You didn’t respond right away. Your eyes softened just a little. He nudged your shoulder gently. “Besides, I love your face.” “My face looks mean.” “No,” he said.

“Your face looks like you’re thinking, there’s a difference.” That made you pause, and then continued to walk again. He leaned in a bit. “You hungry, sweetheart? I can grab you something before class.”

“I’m fine.” “You always say that.” You looked at him. “I am fine.” He smiled. “Okay, okay ‘I am fine,’” he repeated teasingly. That got a small shift on your mouth almost curving, like you was trying not to smile. He noticed, "You almost smiled bae"

“I’m not smiling.” “You almost are.” You shook your head slightly, putting your headphone fully back on your expression wasn’t as flat as before.

You both made it to your classroom. You stopped at the doorway. Jermajesty stepped in front of you just a little, lowering his voice. “You’re gonna have a good day, yeah?” You nodded. “Yeah.”

He softened. “Text me at lunch, pretty girl.” “Okay.” He hesitated like he didn’t want to let you go yet. “Don’t let anyone tell you you look mad again. You hear me?” A faint pause. "I heard you.”

“That’s my girl.” You looked at him then. The hallway noise faded a little between you both.

Your neutral expression cracked slightly not into a big smile. You stepped closer, Jermajesty blinked. “What-” before he could finish, you leaned up and kissed him quickly on the lips. You pulled back like nothing happened and turned toward the classroom.

Jermajesty stood there, frozen. Touching his lips like he was trying to process reality. “Yeah I’m done for.” You glanced back once before walking in.

For him, there was the tiniest hint of a smile left behind. Jermajesty stayed standing in the hallway like he had just completely lost his mind in the best way possible.

[iihrt-kayy]

𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄

𝗷𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗷𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘆 𝘅 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝐰𝐜: 𝟖𝟓𝟐

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳, 𝗮𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗲, 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿, 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲, 𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝗷𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗷𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘆 𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗺𝗹𝘆 𝗱𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗴𝗼 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝗵𝗲’𝘀 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲. 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝘀 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗳𝗮𝗻𝘀 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝘀 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝗻 𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗮𝗹𝗸𝘀 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗺.

“alright, we in here.”

jermajesty adjusted his phone against the kitchen counter as instagram live connected. within seconds people started joining. comments flooded the screen.

JERMAJESTY LIVE???

HEY KING

WE MISSED YOU

“what’s good, y’all?”

he leaned against the counter with a grin.

“i was bored.”

WHERE YOU BEEN

SHOW US THE HOUSE

“absolutely not.”

he laughed.

“y’all too nosy.”

the comments kept rolling. he answered questions, joked around, and occasionally stopped to read something funny out loud.

after about fifteen minutes, the sound of music drifted in from another room. his smile appeared immediately. without him even realizing it, the comments caught it first.

WHO GOT YOU SMILING LIKE THAT

THAT’S THE GIRLFRIEND SMILE

WE KNOW THAT LOOK

he rolled his eyes.

“man, shut up.”

right then you walked into the kitchen.

wearing a bonnet, one of his hoodies, and fuzzy socks. you were carrying a bowl of fruit. the second you noticed the phone you froze.

“oh!”

jermajesty started laughing.

“say hi.”

“absolutely not.”

Y/NNNNNNN

HI QUEEN

SHE LOOK SO COMFY

you looked at the screen.

“why are there so many people in here?”

“because they don’t have anything better to do.”

the comments immediately turned on him.

you laughed.

“y’all, don’t let him bully y’all.”

“see?” he pointed at you. “this is why they like you more.”

“maybe because i’m nice.”

“wow.”

you stole a strawberry from your bowl.

“just saying.”

instead of leaving, you leaned against the counter beside him which apparently was enough to send everyone into chaos.

Y’ALL LOOK GOOD TOGETHER

HE GOT THAT LOOK AGAIN

SOMEONE SCREEN RECORD THIS

jermajesty glanced over at you.

“you staying?”

“maybe.”

“cool.”

his answer came way too fast. you smirked.

“you ain’t slick.”

“i’m not trying to be.”

the comments started moving so fast neither of you could keep up.

then somebody commented:

DOES SHE EVER GET TIRED OF YOU

you immediately started laughing.

“yes.”

“wow.”

“every day.”

“that’s crazy.”

you shrugged.

“and yet you’re still here.”

he looked at the camera.

“heard that?”

before anyone could react, you reached over and wiped something from the corner of his mouth.

he froze. you froze.

the comments practically broke.

OH MY GOD

THEY SO MARRIED

I CAN’T DO THIS

“what?” you asked.

“they’re losing it.”

“over what?”

he pointed at the screen.

you read a few comments and immediately laughed.

“all i did was wipe your face.”

“apparently that’s romantic.”

“they need help.”

“seriously.”

a few minutes later you sat down on one of the kitchen stools. jermajesty naturally moved closer. close enough that your shoulders touched, then your head ended up resting against his arm while he kept talking. nobody missed it.

LOOK AT THEM

THEY NOT EVEN TRYING TO HIDE IT

I LOVE LOVE

he glanced down.

“you sleepy?”

you nodded.

“a little.”

without thinking, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, just a simple motion. completely natural. the kind that happens when two people are used to being around each other. your head immediately found a comfortable spot against him. “comfortable?” he asked.

“mhm.”

his smile softened.

“good.”

the comments were moving too fast to read now. he laughed.

“why are y’all acting like you’ve never seen a relationship before?”

BECAUSE YOU LOOK AT HER LIKE SHE HUNG THE MOON

his eyes found the comment. then found you. you were busy scrolling on your phone. completely unaware. a smile pulled at his lips. the chat immediately noticed. again.

“alright,” he groaned. “i’m ending this live.”

NOOOOO

HE MAD WE EXPOSED HIM

you looked up.

“why are you ending it?”

“because they’re annoying.”

“or because they’re right?”

his jaw dropped. you burst out laughing.

the comments exploded one final time.

before he could defend himself, you leaned over and kissed his cheek. quick, simple, and sweet. and enough to make him completely forget what he was saying.

“bye, y’all.” the live ended immediately.

and instagram spent the next week talking about it.

[iihrt-kayy]

𝐈𝐅 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔

jermajesty x fem!reader

wc: 3200

warning: fluff, kissing, happy tears

summary: jermajesty has been acting suspicious for weeks, but you never expect the surprise he’s been planning with both of your families. one heartfelt speech, one ring, and one question changes everything.

a/n : i’m sooo sorry i ghosted yall for like a week, ive been so busy and my inbox request looks a MESSSS i have so many. im so greatful that yall sent request though. it genuinely makes me happy, im gonna be focusing on writing them starting from the older ones to most recentttt ofc yall can still send in request just know it might take a while.. lmao 😫 and don’t hate me this isn’t proof read

sometimes you wondered if you were just dramatic. because there was absolutely no reason you should’ve been reading into every little thing jermajesty did. …right? you sat cross legged on the couch, pretending to pay attention to the movie playing on the tv while stealing your fourth glance toward him in the kitchen. he wasn’t doing anything suspicious. just making popcorn. except… why was he smiling at his phone like that? your eyes narrowed. he looked down at the screen, typed something, smiled to himself, then locked it the second he noticed you staring.“…what?” he asked, grinning. you blinked innocently. “nothing.” “mhm.” you looked back at the tv, “…who’re you texting?”

he shrugged. “just family.” “…family that makes you smile like that?” “they’re funny.” “right.” he laughed quietly, shaking his head before carrying the popcorn over. “you’re nosy.” “i’m observant.” he leaned down to kiss the top of your head before setting the bowl between you. “whatever helps you sleep at night.” you narrowed your eyes at him. he only smiled wider.

it had started about a month ago. at first, it was little questions. completely random ones. “what kind of flowers do you like the most?” “peonies.” “really?” “yeah.” he hummed like he was mentally taking notes. on another day, “would you rather have a huge surprise or something more private?” you looked up from your book. “what kind of surprise?” “just… any surprise.” “…private.” “why?” “because i cry ugly.” he laughed so hard he nearly dropped the mug he was washing. another day, “what’s your ring size again?” you froze. “why?” his eyes got just a little too wide. “…hypothetically.” “maj.” “hypothetically.” “…why are you asking?”

he scratched the back of his neck. “i forgot.” “…you’ve never known it.” “exactly.” you stared. he stared back. then he cleared his throat. “anyway.” and walked away. you blinked after him. “that was weird.” it wasn’t enough to convince you of anything. but it definitely made you wonder. just a little. okay. a lot.

the weirdness only got worse. he started taking phone calls in the hallway instead of beside you. one afternoon you walked into your bedroom without knocking, even though it was your own room, and found him sitting on the edge of the bed. the second he heard the door open, he shoved something into the nightstand drawer so fast you almost laughed. “…what was that?” “nothing.” “…you practically threw whatever it was.” “didn’t throw it.” “…maj.” “baby.” you folded your arms. “what’re you hiding?” he smiled. “can’t tell you.” “can’t or won’t?” “both.” he stood up, wrapped his arms around your waist, and kissed your forehead before you could investigate further.

“you’re adorable when you’re curious.” “i’m going through that drawer later.” “no, you’re not.” “watch me.” he laughed. “you’ll ruin my surprise.” your heart skipped. “surprise?” “…” “i didn’t say that.” “you literally just did.” “did i?” you gasped dramatically. “jermajesty jackson.” he burst into laughter. “oops.”before you could ask another question, he kissed you. he distracted you so well that you completely forgot what you were asking. which only made you more suspicious afterward. the following week, jermajesty was a nervous wreck. he hid it well. at least… he thought he did. but jaafar and randy jr. had known him his entire life. they could tell, “bro,” randy laughed, watching maj pace back and forth across the backyard. “you’re wearing a hole through the grass.” “i’m not pacing.” “you’re quite literally pacing.”

jermajesty looked down at his feet. “oh.” jaafar couldn’t help but smile. “you got the ring?” he instinctively patted the inside pocket of his jacket. “…yeah.” “you’ve checked like… seventeen times”“eighteen.” randy snorted. “man.” jermajesty rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. “can y’all stop making fun of me?” “we’re not,” jaafar said honestly. “i’ve just never seen you this nervous.” jermajesty let out a long breath. “i just really want it to be perfect.” the teasing stopped. randy reached over, patting his shoulder. “it doesn’t have to be perfect.” jaafar nodded. “it just has to be honest.” maj looked down at the little velvet box in his hands. he’d carried it around for nearly three weeks. every day he’d planned a speech. rewritten it, scrapped it, started over. because somehow… no combination of words ever felt big enough. how were you supposed to explain to someone that they had become your home? that every version of your future started with them? that loving them was the easiest thing you’d ever done?

“what if she cries before i even ask?” jer mumbled. randy blinked. “then she’s probably saying yes.” “…what if i start crying?” jaafar laughed. “you definitely will.” “nigga, i’m serious.” “so am i.” the three of them looked at each other. then burst into laughter.

for the next few days, the planning became even more secretive. jaafar was in charge of keeping everyone updated. randy handled making sure both families actually showed up on time. their cousins helped string warm lights between the trees. his mom carefully arranged white lilies in glass vases. someone laid candles along the little pathway leading to the overlook where jer wanted to ask you. he kept repeating the same sentence over and over. “not too much.” he didn’t want anything flashy. he didn’t need fireworks, or photographers hiding in bushes. he just wanted it to feel… like the two of you.

meanwhile… you were losing your mind. “he’s hiding something.” you said it for what felt like the hundredth time. your best friend raised an eyebrow. “and what makes you think that?” “literally everything.” “very specific.” “he keeps disappearing.” “okay.” “his family keeps looking at me weird.” “…okay.” “jaafar smiled at me yesterday.” “not like normal smiling.” “there are different kinds?”

“yes!” you sighed dramatically. “something is happening.” “…or…” your friend grinned. “you’re just overthinking girl.” “probably.” you groaned. “i’m definitely overthinking.”

saturday finally came. jermajesty stood in the bedroom doorway, fixing the sleeves of his button up. you looked up from the vanity. “wow.” he smiled. “what?” “you look so handsome.” his cheeks warmed instantly. “thank you ma.” he walked over, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before looking you over. then… his jaw practically dropped. “baby.” you looked down at your outfit.“what?” you looked up concerned, “…you’re…” he laughed softly. “you’re beautiful.” you smiled. “thank you.” he couldn’t stop staring. for a second he forgot how to breathe. she’s gonna be my fiancée. the thought hit him so hard he had to look away before he got emotional. “you ready?” he asked quietly. you nodded. “where are we going again?” he smirked. “it’s a surprise.” you sighed dramatically. “i knew you were gonna say that.” he laughed, intertwining his fingers with yours as he led you out the front door. behind his calm smile, his heart was pounding so loudly he was convinced you could hear it. because in just a few hours, if everything went the way he’d dreamed of, he wouldn’t just be your boyfriend anymore. he’d be the man you said yes to.

and hidden just a few minutes away, behind trees and soft string lights, your families, and everyone who loved the two of you were waiting quietly, trying their hardest not to give the surprise away. the group chat had been buzzing all afternoon with updates from jaafar.

jaafar: they just left the house.

randy jr.: everybody hide. seriously. auntie almost walked into the open with the flowers.

jaafar: maj’s gonna freak if y’all ruin this 😭

everyone settled back into place, smiling to themselves. all that was left now… was for jermajesty to ask the easiest and most important question of his life. the drive felt… normal. almost too normal. jermajesty had one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on your thigh, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth like he always did. he even sang along to the music. if someone had looked through the window, they would’ve thought it was just another saturday night. but you noticed the little things. the way he kept taking deep breaths. the way he checked the time every few minutes. the way his fingers trembled ever so slightly whenever they left your leg. “baby, you okay?” you asked softly. he looked over at you for a second before smiling. “yeah.” “you sure?”

“just excited.” “for what?” he chuckled. “you’ll see.” there it was again. ‘you’ll see.’ he had been saying that all week. you rolled your eyes playfully, “i’m tired of hearing ‘you’ll see.’” “i know.” “just give me a hint.” “nope.” “just one.” “absolutely not.” you huffed dramatically, folding your arms. “fine.” he reached over and squeezed your hand. “don’t be mad at me.” “depends.” “on?” “whether this surprise is actually worth all the secrets.” he laughed. “i think it is.”

about twenty minutes later, he pulled into a quiet overlook. you frowned. “…maj.” he got out first before jogging around to your side. when he opened your door, he held his hand out. “come on.” you slipped your hand into his. “why are we here?” “just trust me.” you always did. so you nodded. he led you down a small stone path. the farther you walked, the quieter everything became. the only sounds were your footsteps and the soft breeze brushing through the trees. then, you noticed them. little warm string lights hanging between the branches. white peonies lining both sides of the walkway. candles flickering gently against the evening sky. you stopped walking. “oh my god, maj” your voice barely came out above a whisper. “what is all this?” he turned toward you. his smile was small, kinda nervous. the kind of smile he wore whenever he cared too much about getting something right. “come here.” your heart started racing. he took both of your hands.

they were warm, but very shaky. you looked down. “you’re so nervous.” he laughed quietly. “really nervous.” you had never seen him like this, not once. your stomach flipped. “baby” he looked down for a second, taking a deep breath before meeting your eyes again. his own were already glossy. “i had this whole speech memorized.” you smiled through the tears already building in your eyes. “yeah?”

he laughed, embarrassed. “it’s gone.” you giggled. “completely?” “completely.” that made both of you laugh. the laughter settled his nerves. he gently squeezed your hands. “i’ll just tell you what’s on my heart.” you nodded. he swallowed. “before i met you,” his voice caught. he smiled to himself. “i didn’t know loving somebody could feel this easy.” a tear slipped down your cheek. he reached up, brushing it away with his thumb. “every morning i wake up, and i get to see you…” “and every single morning i think the same thing.” he smiled. “how did i get so damn lucky?’”your lip trembled. “you’ve been there through every version of me.” “the good days.” “the bad ones.” “the days where i didn’t even know how to love myself.” his own eyes watered, “and you never stopped choosing me.” you couldn’t stop crying now. he laughed softly. “baby, don’t cry yet.” “i can’t help it.” “i haven’t even gotten to the important part.” you laughed through your tears. he smiled, completely in love with the sound. “every dream i’ve ever had…” “every goal, “ “every version of my future…” “you’re in it.” his voice grew quieter. “i don’t want a life that doesn’t have you in it.” “i don’t want forever, unless forever is with you.” he slowly let go of one of your hands. your breath caught, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. your eyes widened.

“maj,” he smiled through watery eyes. “yeah.” he lowered himself onto one knee. you covered your mouth immediately. “oh my god” he pulled out the little teal box. opening it with shaky fingers. inside sat the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen.

he looked up at you. his eyes never leaving yours. “you are my best friend.” “my safe place.” “my biggest blessing.” “and the greatest love i’ve ever known.” his smile grew. “so,” he took a shaky breath. “will you marry me?” for a second… everything went quiet. you couldn’t hear the wind anymore. or the birds. or even your own heartbeat. all you saw… was him looking up at you with hopeful eyes. waiting. your tears came even harder. you nodded so fast you could barely breathe. “yes.”

your voice cracked. “yes.” another nod. “yes.” you laughed through your sobs. “of course i’ll marry you.” jermajesty blinked. “really?” you stared at him “really?” he laughed. “i know, dumb question.” you nodded frantically. “come here.” instead of standing, he slipped the ring onto your finger first. his hands trembled so much that he had to laugh “hold still.” “i’m trying.” the ring finally slid into place. you both looked down at it. then back at each other. “hi, fiancée,” he whispered. you burst into tears all over again, “don’t call me that yet.” “why not?”

“because i’ll cry harder.” he stood up so quickly you almost stumbled into him. before you could say another word, he wrapped both arms around your waist and pulled you against him. holding you like he never wanted to let go. he kissed your forehead, your cheeks. your nose. your lips. between every kiss, he whispered the same thing. “thank you.” “thank you.”

“thank you.” you laughed, wiping at his tears with your thumbs. “why are you thanking me?” he rested his forehead against yours. “because…” his smile was brighter than you’d ever seen it. “you said yes.” before you could answer, a loud voice suddenly echoed through the trees. “FINALLY!” both of your heads snapped toward the sound. from behind the trees came jaafar, and the rest of the family, all laughing, clapping, and cheering as they rushed toward the two of you. you gasped, covering your mouth. “you all knew?”jaafar pointed at maj with a grin. “this man has been stressing us out for a month.” “he made us rehearse where we were supposed to stand.” “three times,” one of your cousins added. “he almost canceled because one flower wasn’t in the right spot,” jaafar teased. maj buried his face in your shoulder, groaning. “y’all said y’all weren’t gonna tell her.” “we didn’t!” randy jr. laughed. “we’re just exposing you now.”

everyone burst into laughter. jermajesty just looked back at you, your hand still in his, the ring sparkling under the lights. he smiled so softly it made your heart ache. “worth every second.” you leaned up and kissed him again. “best surprise ever.” behind you, someone yelled, “alright, enough kissing! let us see the ring!” and just like that, the quiet proposal turned into a night full of hugs, happy tears, pictures, laughter, and family celebrating the newest chapter in your love story.

[xwixnk]

Play

Jermajesty x quiet! reader

Summary: Jermajesty is playing Resident Evil and sees if you wanna play.

Jermajesty dropped the controller onto his lap as the game went to a cutscene. "Finally." After fighting through a swarm of infected enemies and solving what felt like a hundred puzzles, he'd finally reached the next part of the story.

On-screen, the characters began talking. Jermajesty leaned back against the couch and looked over at you. You were sitting beside him with your legs tucked under a blanket, quietly watching the story. "You wanna play after this cutscene?"

You glanced away from the TV and nodded. "Yeah." A smile appeared on his face. "Really?" You nodded, "I like these kinds of games." Jermajesty laughed. "Yeah, you do."

Whenever the two of you played together, you always ended up getting invested in the story. You paid attention to every clue and every character interaction. Meanwhile, Jermajesty mostly focused on surviving. The cutscene ended, the game went to the next section.

Jermajesty immediately handed you the controller. "Your turn." You accepted it. The character appeared in a dark hallway illuminated by flickering lights. Jermajesty pointed at the screen. "See? This is exactly where I'd get jumped by something."

You carefully moved through the area. "That's because you run into every room." "It builds suspense." You smiled quietly. An enemy appeared from around a corner. Jermajesty sat up. "There! There!" You calmly aimed, one shot.

Then another, the enemy dropped. Jermajesty stared. "See, that's what I'm talking about." "What?" "You act like nothing surprises you." You shrugged. "It's Resident Evil."

"Exactly! That's why you should be scared." You laughed softly. The two of you continued exploring together. Whenever you found supplies, Jermajesty celebrated. When he notices something hidden, he'd point it out. Sometimes he'd give terrible advice.

"Go through that creepy door." "No." "Why not?" "That's obviously where something bad is." "Okay, but what if it isn't?" A loud noise suddenly echoed from behind the door. Jermajesty immediately changed his mind. "Actually, never mind." That made you laugh harder.

For the next couple of hours, the two of you switched back and forth whenever a new objective was completed. Neither of you cared about finishing the game quickly. You were having too much fun making jokes andwatching the story unfold together.

By the time another cutscene started, Jermajesty had ended up leaning against your shoulder. "This game is way more fun with you baby." You looked over at him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He smiled as the characters continued talking on-screen. "Besides, somebody has to save me when I make bad decisions." You looked at the screen and then back at him. "That's most of your decisions." Jermajesty gasped dramatically.

"Wow" The grin on his face never disappeared as the two of you settled in to continue the story together.

[youluvyanni]

test dummy

pairings: husband Randy Jr, husband Jaafar, husband Jermajesty

notes: i think i kinda got this request wrong…

Randy Jr

“here, babe,” you said, handing Randy his usual protein shake he smiled, taking a long sip before narrowing his eyes.

“…what milk did you use?” “you can taste a difference?” “yeah.” he took another sip. “almond milk or Vanilla..something’s different.”

you smirked, leaning against the counter “nope.” “extra sugar?” you shook your head “what then?” he asked, pointing the bottle at you. “you’re not trying to poison me, are you?”

you laughed harder. “no baby.”

his eyes wandered to the freshly used breast pump sitting on the kitchen counter before slowly meeting yours.

you gave a nod and instead of setting the cup down, Randy just shook his head with a chuckle, took another swig of the shake, and started walking toward his office with it

“don’t tell anyone about this” he muttered

Jaafar

“good morningggg!” you sang, setting two bowls of cereal on the table. Jaafar looked up from his phone and gave you a smile “oooo cereal.”

you slid into the seat next to him and handed him his bowl, you both had different favorite brands, so it was obvious which one was his. he eagerly took a large spoonful, crunching away contentedly.

a moment later, he paused, looking down at the milk. “is this a new box?” “no.” “new carton of milk?” “nope.” “did you add sugar or something?”

you started laughing so hard you had to cover your mouth, completely confusing him

“babe…” he said, already suspicious. “what’s so funny, tell me”

In between giggles, you finally managed to mumble, “I used my breast milk in yours.”

Jaafar slowly set his spoon down, a blush creeping up his neck as he looked away, suddenly shy. “...I was actually going to ask to try it.”

“you were?” you asked, surprised. “yeah,” he murmured, glancing back at you with a sheepish grin. “like, naturally…can i tonight?” “boy bye”

Jermajesty

“here you go babe,” you said, handing Jermajesty a tall glass of iced coffee.

the second the cup hit his hand, he brought the straw to his lips and took a massive gulp, drinking it all as he was clearly desperate for the caffeine. he paused, smacking his lips thoughtfully. “hmmm… did you use almond milk or something in this?”

your jaw dropped slightly, obviously not expecting him to drink it all so quickly “I actually put my breast milk in there.”

Jermajesty froze, staring at you. “are you serious? like... that came from you?”

you nodded, waiting for his reaction. he looked down at the now empty cup, set it firmly on the table, and looked you dead in the eye.

“not gonna lie” he said, a slow, playful smirk spreading across his face. “that was actually kind of refreshing…come here so i can try it again” he said licking his lips

tags 🏷️ @unseenleylinesecret @vict-oryy @hip-hop-star-4 @blkkbratt @pinkjollyrancher54 @dollthoughtz @commaanders @anglfac @doleuia @missharper33 @siighrns @jermajestysbaby @enzo6ekiiii @nvhdesire @niyahctrl @mikaylajacksonnn

[dracowars]

can u do jaafar!michael where its based on the scene where he just got back from getting his nose done?? instead of joseph its u who saw him

bandages | michael jackson

pairing: jaafar!michael x reader

word count: 2,0k

summary: where y/n catches michael sneaking into the house after his first nose job

a/n: thank you sm for requesting <3 (where do i put this on the masterlist? lol)

warnings: angst, self-doubt, established relationship

The house is unnervingly quiet as Michael opens the front door, the hinges giving a faint squeak. Almost too quiet. He squeezes through the narrow opening and closes the door behind him with a soft click. With his head lowered, he heads straight for the stairs, hoping not to be seen. He reaches the middle of the staircase just in time, a door opening somewhere downstairs, voices following. Quickly, he picks up his pace. Once upstairs, he carefully avoids the floorboards he knows will betray him, sneaking his way through the house.

He doesn’t want anyone to see him after what he’s done.

His pulse pounds against his throat as he reaches his parents’ bedroom. There is no other way to get to his own room. He has no choice but to pass it. Holding his breath, he continues on his way and hears someone walking through the entrance hall, likely a maid. Suddenly, he hears a sound from behind his parents’ bedroom doors, as if someone is moving inside. He startles, a sharp breath catching in his throat, and hurries past.

His bedroom door at the end of the hall comes into view, and with every step, the sound of his heartbeat grows louder in his ears, drowning out everything else. His hand trembles as he reaches for the doorknob and steps into the safety of his room. Leaning his back against the door, basically blocking it, he immediately lets out a breath, relieved that no one has seen him.

Michael knows he cannot hide his nose surgery forever; it is far too noticeable a procedure. Yet, in his mind, it makes sense to put off the inevitable revelation as long as possible, especially since he hasn’t told a soul about it. One morning, he simply looked in the mirror and saw Joseph staring back at him through his own reflection – specifically Joseph’s nose, that is – and booked the consultation before he could lose his nerve.

He was terrified, incredibly and utterly terrified. Medical procedures always frightened him and the significance attached to this one made it all the worse.

He dreads the day he will have to stand before him and admit what he has done. The day he gives him the satisfaction of knowing what his ugly words drove him to do. That years of being told he was ugly, that his nose was too big, too awkward, too wrong, had finally gotten to him.

“You’re back!”

Michael’s body goes rigid when he realizes he isn’t alone. You lie sprawled across his bed, absentmindedly kicking your feet as you flip through a magazine. You haven’t looked up yet; the article you’re reading apparently too interesting to spare your boyfriend a glance. For one fleeting second, Michael is grateful for it as it gives him a few extra seconds to figure out his next move. However, his mind has gone completely blank; he can’t think of a thing, except – SHIT!

You lift your gaze from the magazine and smile at him, but he immediately turns his head away, his cap and sunglasses obscuring his face. You caught a brief flash of something white on his face, your smile fading almost instantly. You frown, sensing that something is wrong.

“Michael?”, you whisper, barely making a sound, and swing your legs over the edge of the bed, the magazine long forgotten. With each step you take toward him, he flinches and your stomach drops. His entire body is tense; he presses his back against the door so hard he’s practically trembling. One hand is behind his back, gripping the door handle tightly, as if he’s about to bolt at any moment.

“What’s.. going on?”, you ask, but the question dies halfway through.  You are close enough now, close enough that him turning his head away no longer helps. Your gaze falls on his nose and the bandages wrapped around it.

“What..?” The word escapes in a shaky breath. Michael presses his lips into a thin line and his eyes remain fixed on the floor. Because he is terrified of what he might see in your expression when you look at him like this. He couldn’t bear it if you were to see him differently now.

You cautiously raise a hand, very slowly. He notices from the corner of his eye and instinctively shrinks away, as though making himself smaller could soften whatever you’re about to say. You gently cradle his chin and turn his head toward you, leaving him no choice but to look at you. He doesn’t resist.

The extent of what he has done is now unmistakably visible right there on his face. Behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses, his eyes shimmer with unshed tears. When he spots a hint of sadness in your gaze, not disgust, not disappointment, his shoulders loosen ever so slightly. Evidently, he senses no threat coming from you. You had never given him any reason to fear judgment or condemnation, but Michael’s mind liked to convince him of the worst.

Without saying a word, you gently remove the sunglasses from his face to look into his eyes. You almost drop it when you look into his deep brown, big, beautiful eyes, a hitched breath escaping your throat. Dark purple bruises surround both eyes, a sign that his nose was likely broken. His eyes radiate such profound sadness and vulnerability that it takes your breath away, leaving you momentarily dizzy as you realize what it all means. Why he did it.

You don’t dare touch his face, afraid even the gentlest contact might hurt him, so your hands just hover uncertainly beside his face while you’re searching for the right words to say. You can’t come up with anything and because Michael can’t bear it any longer, the uncertainty of it all, he beats you to it.

“It’s for my sinuses”, he says softly, his voice cracking at the end. He can’t even look at you when he says it, averting his gaze once more.

“Oh, Michael”, your breath trembles as the words leave your mouth. You know he’s lying and he knows that you know that he’s lying. You know why he did it and he knows that you know why he did it. He has told you about it often enough. That he wants to look like a real superstar, that his nose is simply too big, too ugly. All words his father drilled into him from early childhood, until eventually, he came to believe them.

You have witnessed firsthand how Joseph talks to him even to this day, how he tears him down at any chance he gets, mocking him, belittling him, calling him ugly when he is quite literally the most beautiful man in the world. The irony of it all makes your blood boil.

You had loved his nose, it fit him so well. You still do. His entire face was perfect to you, is perfect to you. Changing it won’t change how you see him. But it hurts knowing he never got the chance to see himself through your eyes instead of Joseph’s. You feel like you’ve failed him. That you didn’t do enough to blur Joseph’s words out, to make him feel comfortable in his own skin, to accept himself the way he is. But you never had any chance, Joseph’s damage had been done long before you came into his life.

What hurts most is watching him try to hide from you.

It’s all becoming too much for Michael. He simply can’t meet your gaze, a single tear slipping down his cheek. He reaches for his sunglasses and squeezes past you, flexing his hand because he had been gripping the door handle far too tightly. You don’t let him get far, though. Quickly, you grab his wrist. He stops abruptly and looks at you, so sad and hurt that it breaks your heart. A grown, beautiful man, broken by the words of a man who ought to be supporting him, who ought to love him just as he is. Who terribly failed him.

Without hesitation, you pull him into a tight embrace, careful not to touch his nose. At first, Michael is taken aback and stands rigid in your arms, caught completely off-guard.

“Does it hurt?”, you murmur against his shoulder, planting a feather-light kiss there. His breath shudders and then, slowly, almost hesitantly, his arms wrap around you. He pulls you close until there’s no space left between you, squeezing you tightly against his chest.

Only then does his body relax and he wraps his arms around you, pressing you closer, chest to chest. You can tell by the way he hugs you back, that he’s so grateful to have you, to have someone who will always have his back, no matter what. You can feel his heartbeat underneath his skin.

“A bit”, he sniffs. You both know he isn’t talking about the surgery. The deepest wound had been there long before the bandages ever were. Neither of you says so.

Michael’s grip tightens almost imperceptibly. You feel it in the way his fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt, in the way he leans just a little more of his weight against you, as though holding himself upright has suddenly become too exhausting. Silence stretches between the two of you, broken only by his uneven breathing against your shoulder. Gently, you rub your hand up and down his back, reminding him that you are there.

“I ruined my face.” The words are so quiet you almost miss them. Your heart cracks and you pull back just enough to look at him, keeping your hands resting lightly against his sides so you don’t risk brushing his nose.

“What?”

“I know you loved my old nose. Now I look like this, awful”, he swallows hard.

“Do you want to know why I loved your old nose?”, you ask, adjusting the collar of his shirt.

“Why?”

“Because it was yours”, you explain, your fingertips carefully smoothing the sleeve of his overall. “And I’ll love this one for exactly the same reason.”

For a long moment, you simply look at him. Michael doesn’t know how to respond to that. He is overwhelmed by the gentleness in your voice, in your eyes. It feels almost foreign, being looked at with so much love when he’d spent most of his life expecting criticism instead. He wants to believe you, desperately, but Joseph’s voice is louder, older, woven into him too tightly to simply disappear.

With the same care you’d shown when removing his sunglasses, you reach up to the brim of his cap now, lift it from his head and set it aside. Soft curls, flattened from being tucked beneath it for hours, spring free. You gently comb your fingers through them, brushing them back from his forehead, careful not to go anywhere near the bandages.

“I just..”, your voice catches for a moment, unsure how to phrase it. “I just wish you would’ve told me.”

He lowers his gaze, feeling embarrassed that he ever thought, even if it was only for the split of a second, that you could ever resent him for what he’d done. You slip your hand into his, the touch making him look up nervously as he squeezes your hand.

“I would’ve been there to hold your hand”, you tell him, your thumb stroking over his knuckles. “You didn’t have to be scared by yourself.”

A fresh tear rolled down Michael’s cheek. “I know”, he whispers hoarsely. “I just.. I couldn’t.”

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you”, you say, your own voice trembling now. “How incredibly beautiful you are, inside and out. I hate that he spent your entire childhood convincing you that you weren’t enough. Because you’re more than enough, Michael.”

The bandages are covering the aftermath of what has been done to him. Years of shame, years of hearing the same cruel worlds, years of pretending they didn’t matter – all of it crashes over him at once. Immediately, you wrap him in your arms again. This time he doesn’t hesitate and buries his face against your shoulder as carefully as he can, mindful of his bandaged nose, while his body shakes with quiet sobs.

“You don’t ever have to hide from me.”

[rauvsun]

a bad landing

pairing: jackson5!michael jackson x fem!reader

themes: fluff, meet-cute gone wrong

synopsis: a tree-climbing michael jackson, a bad landing, and a minor concussion—all leading to...

warnings: none i can think of

word count: 1k

a/n: experimented a little so here's something short and cute, enjoy!

latoya’s idea of a relaxed afternoon was dragging everyone to hayvenhurst under the guise of hanging out by the pool, which mostly just meant sitting in the grass while everyone traded updates on their personal lives.

"look, all i'm saying is he's in your department," one if your friends said, nudging you with her foot. "he's asked about you twice. just give the guy five minutes of your time."

"i don't want to give him five minutes," you said, staring up at the sky. "i like my house. i like my bed. my bed doesn't ask me what my favorite color is."

latoya snorted, leaning back on her elbows. "you can't stay single forever just because you refuse to leave your room."

"watch me."

"it’s not that hard," latoya argued. "you literally just have to go out. men exist everywhere.”

"they don't just drop into your lap, toy," you said, rolling your eyes. “’cos if they did, i probably won't be single right now.”

"c’mon, we're touring the grounds," latoya announced, standing up and brushing off her shorts. "maybe fresh air will fix your attitude."

the estate was massive, quiet, and mostly peaceful—until you walked past a particularly large oak tree near the side of the main house.

there was a sharp crack of a branch, a frantic muffling of a curse word, and before you could even register the sudden shifting of leaves above your head, something heavy collided with your shoulder. you went down hard, hitting the grass with a muffled thump, your head instantly hitting the ground.

everything went dark for about three seconds.

when your eyes blinked open, the sky was replaced by four panicked faces staring down at you. right in the center was a guy with a thick afro, a striped shirt, and an expression of absolute, unadulterated terror.

"is she breathing?" latoya asked.

"yep, still alive," you grunted, holding the back of your head. "what hit me?"

"he did," one of the girls said, pointing directly at the guy next to latoya.

he was hovering on his knees, hands wringing together like he was about to be executed on the spot.

"i am so sorry," he stammered, his voice ridiculously high with anxiety. "i was—i was just sitting up there and the branch gave out. i didn't mean to—are you okay? do you need to go to the hospital?"

you stared at him, taking in the wide, horrified eyes. "latoya, who's that?"

"that's my brother, michael," latoya said, though she was already fighting a smirk. "michael, this is my friend."

you groaned, rubbing your forehead as you sat up slowly. "right. well. nice to meet you, michael. guess you found your landing pad for today."

"i'm really, really sorry," michael repeated, looking like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. "i lost my balance. i—i swear i wasn't trying to jump on you."

"it's fine," you said dryly, testing your jaw. "i did say men don't just drop into your lap, but clearly I was wrong. universe made a point."

latoya covered her mouth, biting back a laugh, while your other friends tried to hold back their laughs as well. "okay, well, since you're not dead, we're gonna go get some ice from the kitchen."

"don't leave me here with him," you muttered, but latoya was already dragging the rest of the girls toward the house, leaving a trail of giggles behind them.

michael stayed frozen on the grass, sitting on his heels, watching you like you were made of glass. "does your head hurt bad? i can go get my mom, or call a doctor—"

"buddy," you said, looking over at him. "relax. my head throbs a little, but my pride is intact. stop looking like you just committed a felony."

he let out a breathless, quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "i just... i feel terrible. I'm usually better at climbing that one."

"good to know you have a routine," you said, adjusting your position in the grass so you were sitting cross-legged. "is this how you usually meet people, or was I a special case?"

"definitely a special case," he murmured, his posture finally relaxing a bit. he offered a shy smile. "usually people just shake my hand."

"boring," you said simply. "this builds character."

he giggled—a quiet, light sound—and sat down fully across from you, tucking his legs in. "i'm michael."

"i know. latoya just told me."

"and you? why'd they call you hermit, by the way?"

you muttered your name in response. "i prefer 'homebody', but latoya has a flair for the dramatic." you looked him up and down, taking in the grass stains on his knees. "so, do you spend all your free time waiting in foliage to flatten your sister's friends, or was today just bad luck?"

"just bad luck," he grinned, the initial panic completely fading into something warm and easy. "i was actually trying to get some quiet time."

"guess, i ruined that for you," you said, leaning back on your hands.

"you didn't," he insisted softly. "i still feel like i need to do something for you, though. i feel really bad."

"you really don't need to, i’m fine, honest."

"no, please, i insist," michael said, his expression completely earnest. "let me get you that ice. and—i'm gonna get your number from latoya later so i can check on you tomorrow. just to make sure you don't have a concussion."

years later

"the best part," michael said into the microphone, his voice echoing through the reception hall over the light ambient music, "is that she didn't even yell at me."

the crowd laughed, glasses clinking across the tables. you sat at the head table, shaking your head with a grin as your new husband looked over at you.

"she just sat up, looked me dead in the eye with dirt in her hair, and asked if that was how i usually introduced myself," michael continued, his smile bright under the lights. "i spent three weeks apologizing and begging her to let me take her out to make up for giving her a mild concussion."

he turned to face you directly, his eyes soft. "and honestly? best fall i ever took."

you leaned into the mic set up on your side of the table. "you still owe me for the medical bill, you know."

"i thought marrying you meant my debts were forgiven, mrs. jackson.”

[jks-luvr]

hiii girll i have a request but you gotta be theree i saw your last fic about hitting the yart with jermajesty and that just had me thinking imagine jermajesty x reader in school hitting the yart in class and he accidentally drops it and picks it up but both of them get scared and blame each other just for the teacher not to notice like a cute fluff au😭😭😭

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ backrow

jermajesty j. ⋆˚࿔

pairing: jermajesty × blackfem!reader

synopsis: after a dropped cart nearly gets you both caught (not), the two of you spiral into a light whispered bickering, laughter, and the kind of chaos that reminds you why being with him never gets old.

warnings: fluff, highschool/classroom au, smoking (cart), use of nword

wc: 500

a/n: hili doll! thank you for requesting, this is literally so funny to picture fo. this might, be the shortest fic I've ever wrote but i loved writing it. let me know if you enjoyed this!

requests are open!

(for my @ pls Imk if you wanna be tagged for only jaafar, only jermajesty, only michael, or if you dont mind all!!)

tags (message to be added or removed): @vict-oryy, @kianaajermajesty, @mimionspot, @ghettofabu05, @lilitheebaddest, @swavydadon, @4ppl3h34d, @mrsj4cks0n, @callmelyriic, @plan3tch1ld, @softchaosdiary505, @keiiate, @superduperawkwardcutie, @notepadgirl14, @sayyoulovemeziya, @cchampangemamii, @aristoleyaferrarii

it was third period chemistry, you and jermajesty were currently planning to risk it all in the very last row. your teacher had her back turned, aggressively writing some formula on the whiteboard, which was the ultimate green light.

you nudged his shoulder, giving him the look. jermajesty smirked, sliding his cart out of his hoodie pocket like a secret agent.

he took a quick hit, blowing the smoke straight down his hoodie sleeve, looking way too proud of himself. “okay, my turn, gimme,” you whispered, reaching out under your desk.

but.

something stupid went off in jermajesty’s mind, prompting him to try and do some fancy hand off. and as expected, his fingers ended up slipping. time literally slowed down as the cart slipped from his grip, bounced off his knee, and hit the floor with a loud ‘clack.’

both of your souls instantly left your bodies. jermajesty dove out of his chair, scrambling on the floor to snatch it before anyone could notice.

he popped back up, shoved it in his pocket, and immediately turned on you, his eyes wide with panic. “why the fuck did you drop it?!” he hissed, his voice cracking slightly.

“me?!” you gasped, pointing at yourself in betrayal. “nigga, you literally threw it at me! why the fuck would you do that?”

“i handed it perfectly, you have fucking butter fingers!” he whispered back hard, leaning in so close your foreheads almost touched. “if we get suspended, i'm telling them it was your fault.”

“i will literally fight you,” you shot back, trying so hard not to laugh because his face was turning red from the adrenaline. “deadass.”

at this point, you both erupted into laughter, the sound spilling through the back of the classroom no matter how hard you tried to muffle it.

“is there a problem back there?”

the teacher’s voice boomed, and both of you froze like deer in headlights. jermajesty instantly grabbed his pencil, staring down at his notebook like he was actively being productive, while you gave the teacher a completely innocent smile.

the entire class turned to look at the both of you. “no, ms. clark! jermajesty just dropped his...highlighter,” you lied through your teeth, a wheezy laugh escaping you after.

the teacher just stared for a second, “please keep it down, i don’t want to have to seperate the both of you.” she sighed at the chaos of you two, and turned back to the board.

the second the coast was clear, jermajesty let out a shaky breath, burying his face in his hands. you couldn't hold it in and snorted, kicking his shin under the desk.

he looked up, a beautiful smile breaking across his face as he shook his head at you. “we are never doing that again,” he muttered, though he reached under the desk and squeezed your hand, his thumb rubbing the back of your knuckles.

“it’s literally your fault,” you giggled, squeezing his hand back. “next time, don’t be dumb.”