[mjj-nostalgia]

Imagine seeing Michael in the hospital for the first time after the Pepsi accident and spending time reading to him as he recovers.

This one is based off of an imagine request by @fandomsarefamily1966 but when I began to write it, it was less about reading stories (as requested) and more about seeing him for the first time, but, I think it's beautiful this way, too 🥹 

Inspired by the events following the Pepsi accident - so there is mention of hospital and his burn but nothing graphic so it should be okay. Just letting you know!

I am also very tired and 100% know the tenses are not perfectly aligned throughout but that doesn't matter in a one-shot right lolol

Enjoy!

Michael had been injured - very badly. The worst he ever had been and the worst you had ever known of someone so far in your life. You cried when you were told he had been badly burned during the commercial shoot. You waited with his family in the waiting room for hours and hours, hoping for some sort of miracle or positive outcome. When the doctor finally arrived, he said Michael was in stable condition but there would be a long road to recovery ahead. You breathed out a shaky sigh of relief.

“He does not want visitors yet,” The doctor said. 

Two days later, you received a phone call from Michael’s mother, Katherine. She tells you that he is in a lot of pain but he wants to see you. 

“You always know how to cheer him up. Could you come, please?” she asked.

“Of course, Mrs. Jackson,” you replied.

That night, you entered the hospital through a special door for visitors of those higher in status in the hospital. They checked you in and gave you a special badge and lanyard that you were to wear around your neck. You slipped it over your head carefully.

“He’s in room 403,” the nurse said. You gulped and nodded. You turned to your left and walked down the darkened hall. As you approached his corridor, you saw Bill resting out front of his room. Your footsteps were quiet, but not quiet enough. Bill opened his eyes and sat up straight. When he saw you, he smiled.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he said. 

“Hello,” You said with a rattled voice. Bill nodded.

“I know. This is…messed up to say the least. That boy don’t deserve this…,” he said. You shook your head.

“No. He doesn’t,” you say. Bill stood up.

“Go on ahead in. I know he’s been asking for you,” he said. You nod. 

You hesitate for a moment as you approach the door. You grab the door handle. As you peered into the window of the door, your chest dropped into your stomach as you viewed the state Michael was in. You held your breath as you pushed the door open. You walked in and looked around the door. Michael seemed to be sleeping. You then closed the door behind you as you walked over towards the bed. You stood back a few feet as you looked down at him. The top-back portion of his head was wrapped in white bandages and he had an IV with pain medicine drip…drip…dripping down. You cover your mouth with your fingers as tears welled into your eyes. 

“Jesus…,” you uttered. This was a bit louder than you anticipated as Michael’s eyes opened. He blinked and moved very slowly. He sniffed as his eyes focused. Then - he saw you. A very small smile broke out on his face.

“(Y/N),” he said groggily.

“Michael…oh, my fucking god,” you said.

“Hey…don’t cuss, please?” he asked.

“I am so sorry. I just…I have been worried sick. And seeing you like this…oh…,” you wiped your eyes. You walked to the side of the bed near the guest chair. You looked down at him.

“What on earth are they giving you?” you asked as you looked at the IV.

“Probably morphine,” he mumbled. You exhaled softly. You didn’t really like the sound of that. But you nodded and sat down on the chair next to him. He had enough strength to turn his body and look over at you.

“You don’t need to be here. I know it’s hard. But, I wanted to see you,” he said.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m here. I’m always going to be here. I told you that before,” you say. Tears now welled in Michael’s eyes. He sniffled and nodded.

Then, he reached his hand out for yours. You leaned over and took it gently.

“Do you need anything right now?” you ask.

“Yes,” he said.

“Can you…can you read me some stories?” he asked. Your heart nearly melted at the child-like nature of his question.

“Of course, honey,” you replied. You looked up and around, seeing a stack of books on the table in the corner. You stood up and walked over to it.

“What are you in the mood for?” you ask.

“Anything,” Michael said.

“How about old reliable?” you ask, lifting up his beloved Peter Pan book. The corner of Michael’s mouth turned into a smile. He nodded. You smiled in return and walked back over to the chair. You sat down, made sure he was ready, and then read him his all time favorite story. After you finished, you saw Michael’s eyes were nearly closed again. You smiled faintly and stood up. You leaned over and kissed his forehead with a small peck as to not hurt his head.

“Get some rest,” you say.

“I will. And (Y/N)?” he asked in a sleepy tone.

“Hmm?” you reply.

“Stay the night? Please? I don’t want to be alone,” he said, trying not to cry. You took his head gently and nodded.

“Of course. I will see you in the morning,” you say. You let go of his hand and walked back over to the chair. You put out the footrest and used your coat to cover your legs. You watched Michael sleep for a little while, checking his vitals on the screen before your eyes burned. You then closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, keeping your promises to Michael.

[trippiexk]

Fire Light

After three long weeks of traveling, Michael finally returns home.

You happen to notice he's a bit worked up.

-

word count: 3454

content: no use of y/n, creampie, fingering, mj calls you his pretty girl, breast sucking, ur lowkey compliant af, mj is really soft and sweet even when saying dirty things, p in v sex, use of pet names, mentions of stress, uhhh they do it in the living room, mj makes reader squirt <3, literally any era you want to imagine cus i'm not descriptive, i think that's it

-

"Michael?" Your voice came out softer than intended, though you could tell he'd heard you from the way his shoulders relaxed. He stood in front of the fireplace, the orange glow illuminating his lean body in a silent shadow. You chewed your bottom lip, hands snaking around your body to keep warm. The only thing adorning your frame was a thin silk nightgown, the one you liked to put on after shaving. 

"Hey, baby," His smooth voice called out. You let out a breath, waiting for him to turn and face you, but he never did. His hands were tucked in the waistband of his pajama pants, and he was staring into the fire; for what, you didn't know. 

"What are you doing out here?" You asked, bare feet daring to step closer. Though the living room was warm, the hallway behind you was cold, and your nipples peeked out beyond the thin fabric of your garment, making you shiver. "I couldn't sleep," He replied, voice still soft, still patient. 

"Couldn't or wouldn't?" You asked. You inched closer, and at that, he turned to face you, sultry eyes taking in your shorter frame. "I think you know the answer." 

"Mmm," You hummed, letting him pull you in front and wrap his arms around your waist. You stared into the very same fire, feeling his heartbeat against your back. He began to sway the two of you, and you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his body and the fire whisk you away. After a second, you spoke, "You need to rest." 

"I know," He simply replied, thumb rubbing up and down your belly over the nightgown. You focused on feeling the fabric bunch and unbunch, the simple gesture sending tingles to your core. 

"Michael?" 

"Yes, baby?" 

"Are you stressed?" 

Michael took a second to reply, taking a deep breath before moving his hand up your body, caressing your neck from behind. "Yes. I am. That's why I can't sleep." 

"Are you worried about what your producers are going to say about the album?"

"More so, what they're not going to say, but yes." 

"Oh."

He continued to caress your neck, up and down, before moving to your shoulders and gliding his fingers gently along the soft skin there. "Have I ever told you how much I love it when you ask me questions?" 

You took in a sharp breath, eyes closed as his fingers moved across your body. It was sending tingles to your scalp, so much so that it was making you weak in the knees. You leaned against his solid frame for support. "Yes, you have." Your voice was a mere whisper. 

He leaned down, soft lips pressed against your neck. The kisses were so light you had to focus on just him to feel them at all. His hands were cold, despite the fire, and you felt them snake down to the edge of your gown. It was a short thing, clearly meant for sleep and the intimacy of a partner. It stopped right below your ass, covering your panties but leaving the entirety of your legs exposed. 

Suddenly, he paused, pulling away from you before walking across the living room. Your eyes snapped open, and you watched him, shocked, as he glided the loveseat across the hardwood floor and settled it right where he'd been standing moments before. He sat down, holding his hand out, and offered you a small, sensual smile. "Join me?" 

You smiled in return, taking his hand and letting him pull you onto his lap. You faced away from him again, back against your chest, legs curled in his lap, and his firm hand massaging your feet. You both watched the fire for a while before desire started to crawl from within. You fidgeted in his lap, breath coming out slightly staggered as you tried to search for some friction without him knowing. But he knew, he always knew.

The hand massaging your foot crept up, softly squeezing your calf before making its way, ever so gently, to your thigh. You chewed on your bottom lip again, wanting more than anything for him to keep touching you, and to never stop. 

He pushed his hips up, adjusting himself, before planting his hands on your hips and turning you to sit so that your legs dangled on either side of his. You relaxed, the back of your head nestled beside his. If you turned, you could kiss him. 

"What do you want? Hm? Tell me." His voice was soft. It was always soft. You can't recall a time it was anything but. You couldn't answer, though, your words paralyzed in your throat as you focused on the way he caressed your thighs. 

It's not like you and Michael had never had sex before; it was quite the opposite, in fact. But every time, he made you nervous. Every time, he made it feel like the first. With the innocent facade, the gentle teasing, the soft touches. It drove you insane. It was as if he knew what got you riled up, down to the number of kisses on your neck. 

"Answer me, baby." 

You shuddered, his breath tickling your ear. In the time he was waiting for your answer, his hands hadn't left your thighs. They were still circling and squeezing the exact same spots, over and over again. 

"I...I want you to touch me. I miss...I miss it. I miss your touch." 

"Mmm," He hummed, taking a deep breath as if he was considering your words. "Touch you where?" He finally asked, making your chest tighten. 

"Anywhere, everywhere. Please." 

You heard him chuckle behind you; nevertheless, he pulled his hands away from your thighs, hooking a finger under the waistband of your panties, and pulling the soaked material away from your core and down your legs, discarding them somewhere across the living room. Then, his hands found themselves under the bend of your knee, propping your feet on his thighs and leaving you exposed for the fire to see. You sighed, a sad, pathetic sound that was closer to a whine than anything. 

"Oh, baby." 

His middle finger gathered up the arousal that was leaking from your aching cunt, spreading it up and down, purposefully neglecting your clit until you whined, making him chuckle again. He was unbelievably hard underneath you, which is why these seemingly nonchalant chuckles weren't bothering you one bit. You knew he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. 

After swirling firm, quick circles around your clit, he finally inserted a single finger inside of you. Letting your walls squeeze and tighten around his digit. You let out a quiet, gruff moan, bucking your hips into the feeling and closing your eyes. You were already overstimulated, and nothing had even really happened yet. But Michael always had that effect on you, since day one. 

He pulled his finger out, and when you opened your eyes, you were able to see that it was already coated in a thin, creamy film. Your face grew hot with embarrassment, and your bottom lip found purchase between your teeth once more. Michael used his finger to swipe across your clit, making your hips buck and your core tighten. "Ohh," You let out, blood threatening to spill from your swollen lip. He inserted his finger again, this time with a companion, and you could tell from the tight squeeze just how long it'd been since you two had had sex. 

"I want you to cum for me, darling. Do you think you can do that?" You nodded, eagerly, chest heavy with anticipation as his two fingers sat still inside of you. "And who knows, if you do a good job, maybe I'll fuck you." 

Your eyes flew open, jerking your head to the side to see him already looking at you. A smirk adorned his pretty lips, but you were focused on his eyes. Soft, brown, and adorned with the most beautiful eyelashes a man could have. When Michael said 'do a good job', he was almost always referring to you making a mess. He loved to see and make you squirt. You could tell he felt accomplished when you did so. You nodded, your own big eyes staring back at him, before you leaned in for a kiss. The moment your lips collided, his fingers began to move. 

Your walls had had enough time to adjust, so his pace was relentless. Fast, piercing, but oh so good. At some points, he slows down, curling his fingers up just to hear you moan. His tongue licked the inside of your mouth, tasting every inch of you while you were a moaning, groaning mess. The position was giving you an ache in your side, from being turnt around to kiss him while your legs were still propped on his thighs, but you didn't care, because everything felt amazing. Michael pulled away, eyes still focused on your lips but having something to say. 

"You hear yourself, girl? Sounds filthy." 

And he was right. Wet, squelchy sounds filled the expanse of the living room. Your juices flowed down his hand, leaving his palm and wrist drenched, and the crotch of his pajama pants soaked as well. "All for you," You managed to moan out, your face inching closer to his as you longed for another kiss. He granted it to you, his other, unoccupied hand coming up to cup your chin. 

Suddenly, your core tightened, and you pulled away, unable to breathe. Your orgasm was right there, right there, you could feel it bubbling. "Oh, oh fuck. Oh, Mike..." Michael pushed deep inside of you then, eliciting a loud moan from you. Your legs fell from his lap, and he used the hand that was on your chin to keep you propped open for him. "Come on. I know it's there. I can feel it. Come on, baby." His words were encouraging, as if you were going for a run or trying to win a race; he always said just what you needed to hear.

Your head was thrown back against his shoulder, your chin pointed to the ceiling, and your mouth stuck in a permanent 'o' as you finally came. Making a mess of his fingers, the floor, his pants, and the cashmere rug on the floor.

"Yess, 'atta girl. I got you, I got you. Oh, I'm so proud of you, baby." 

You whimpered weakly, your body limp from the exhaustion of your orgasm. You knew it wasn't over, but Michael always gave you time to recuperate after something like this. As your breathing started to steady, he placed delicate kisses along your neck, nibbling on your ear, and rubbing the inside of your thigh. 

"You did a good job," He said, a bit muffled since your earlobe was in his mouth. Instead of a 'thank you', you turned around in his lap, your naked cunt making contact with his clothed cock. He hissed, biting his lip, before placing his hands on your hips. He began to rock, back and forth, back and forth, making you more overstimulated than you already were. 

"You gonna let me fuck you?" How he managed to ask such a dirty question in the gentlest, most innocent voice was beyond you. So you smiled shyly, nodding as you ducked away from his eyes. Michael was usually more romantic, much more patient. He usually wouldn't say 'fuck'; he'd say 'make love'. And he much preferred the bedroom over anything as scandalous as the living room. But alas, it'd been over three weeks since you'd seen him, with him just arriving from traveling yesterday afternoon, and you knew how restless he got when he was pent up without you for so long. He became unpredictable. 

"Will you lie on your back for me then, love?" 

You nodded, moving your weak legs from the sides of his hips and moving across the small loveseat. He stood, watching you intently as you lay comfortably on your back, head lying on the armrest, and thighs stuck together from arousal. His eyes admired you, but for once, you weren't focused on his face. Your attention had found its way to his pants. At the large bulge in his pants that seemed to gravitate towards you. 

"You wanna know what I was stressed about?" He said your name gently, making you nod. He sighed, fingers curling under the waistband of his pants and pulling them down, letting them pool at his ankles before stepping out of them and throwing them about, probably near where your panties landed. 

"My label..." He started, now working on his underwear. You watched with intent eyes. "Was trying to get me to trim the new album down by three songs. Saying it was too long– wouldn't sell, according to them. Now granted," He finally released himself from the suffocating chambers of his underwear. He pumped himself a few times, a hiss leaving his lips as his hand grazed the head of his cock. 

"The album is nearly an hour and a half long, so I understand that part." He settled between your legs, peeling them apart and letting them settle on his hips. He rubbed the leaking tip across your clit, making you groan, "Mike–" You whimpered, your hand finding its way to his pelvis to push him away. "But you want to know what songs they wanted me to take off?" 

You couldn't answer. Why was he doing this? Did he always tease this much? You could hardly focus on what he was saying or what he was trying to tell you. Why was his shirt still on? You wanted to see him; it'd been so long. 

Just as you reached for his shirt, he broke the entrance of your cunt, making your eyes roll back and your back to arch. You gasped, grabbing a handful of the very shirt you were about to take off. "They were the ones about you," He strained, a whimper leaving his lips as he bottomed out. He sat still for a second, letting you, or maybe him, adjust. 

"Can you believe that?" He breathed out, "My songs, about my girl. My pretty girl." He ducked down, planting his face in your neck and slowly starting to move his hips. "I'm crazy about you, girl. Crazy, baby. I love you." His words were so passionate, so calculated, so layered. Moans left your lips every time you tried to reply. 'I love you too,’ they were meant to say; 'I love you more than I could ever express'. However, only pathetic moans could leave your throat. 

"Oh, baby." He whispered over and over again in your ear. His dick wasn't long, as one might think it would be given his stature. It was average length, at best, but it was so thick. It stretched you open with each stroke, reaching just deep enough inside you to make you want to run away. His hand held your hips down, preventing this, and he continued to fuck you, just as he said he would. 

"I miss you when I'm gone. All I can think of is you. Always. All the time. You compel me."

"Oh, Michael, I missed you," You were finally able to sob out, finally letting the pleasure take over you. "I know," He kissed your jawline, over and over, dotting it with delicate kisses. "I know, I missed you too. More." He finally pulled his shirt off, and next, your nightgown, letting the sweaty clothes fall to the floor

Impossible. You thought. You were a wreck without him. Every time he ventured away, you wandered the huge house, wondering when he'd be back. The early morning and nightly phone calls were never enough. You always just wanted him. Of course, you had his animals, all flooding through and roaming freely in the backyard, and they were enough of a reminder of him to get you through, but it was never enough. Never. 

Michael pulled away from the solace of your neck, hovering above you as his hips did most of the work of making you both feel good. He looked between your eyes, his breath washing over your lips as you stared back up at him, feeling loved. Feeling whole. 

"Come on tour with me?" He finally asked, his words heavy with pleasure. You opened your mouth to respond, but still, only moans fell out. You were at your limit. Your brain was mush. You nodded, eagerly, a strained "Yes", finally croaking out of your lips. 

"Yes?" He asked for confirmation. You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips. "Yes, yes, yes," You mumbled against him, before slipping your tongue in his mouth. You wanted to swallow him. Devour him even. You needed to, because you were hot, so, so hot. The fire, your pleasure, his body; it was all too much for you. 

Just then, your core started to tighten again, your belly bubbling with heat. "You gonna cum again?" He asked against your lips, of course, your response was a fistful of his hair, your legs tightening against his waist, and your head thrown back so that your throat was exposed. 

"Go ahead," He grunted, in between thrusts, "Cum for me, my pretty girl." 

He licked your throat, collecting your sweat on his tongue and suckling on the skin there while his thrusts became sloppy. He moved down to your breasts, taking a nipple in his mouth while twisting the other between his index finger and thumb, and then swapping, making sure to give the same attention to each one. 

You tightened your grip on his hair, making him groan. He loved it when you did that; it was enough to send him over. But he needed you to finish first; he always did that. You secretly think he loved delaying his own orgasm. 

He bit down ever so slightly on your nipple, and you came with a loud groan, your legs tightening impossibly around his waist as your thighs shook. He guided you through it, but then his strokes became just as sloppy, just as rough as before. He wrapped his arms around your body, lifting you from the loveseat ever so slightly and fucking into you with force he'd never had before. You held onto his hair, your other hand wrapped securely around his neck, but the rest of your body was limp against his as he chased his own finish. 

"Oh– oh baby– I'm almost– I'm going to cum," He moaned, fucking into you like a rabid man. "Inside," You managed to force out, eyes closed and breaths heavy. You were exhausted. 

"Inside?" He verified. He was close, you could tell. His voice was so strained. "Yes, please, Michael. Inside, please. Please." Your begging is what sent him overboard. 

He thrust inside of you once more, before groaning loudly into your ear. You felt his warm seed spurt inside of you, making you moan softly in his ear as you both came down from your orgasms. 

Lying you gently back onto the cushions, he cupped your head so that it didn't thud against the armrest. He pulled his softened member out of your sore cunt, letting his seed leak out onto the couch and resting his sweaty, sticky body against yours. 

Usually, he'd be quick with aftercare, a cold towel wiping you down, and a warm bath running soon after. But you knew he was exhausted, and you weren't even sure you had the energy to walk upstairs to the bathroom. 

You both lie in silence for a moment, listening to the firewood crackle and pop. The fire danced shadows on his naked body, and you played with his hair, massaging his scalp as he lay his head on your stomach, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your hip. 

After a moment: "Did you mean it when you said you'd tour with me?" 

You sucked in a breath, meeting his eyes as he pulled his sweaty face away from your sweaty stomach. You smiled weakly, nodding, and moving a strand of hair from his face. "Of course." 

He returned your weak smile, planting a kiss on your belly button. "I'm glad," He started, lying back down. "It's not only because I miss you, but I just think it'd be safer. Bill can protect you as well, plus I'm so worried someone will break in with just you here. I want you close to me." 

Your fingers danced in his hair once more, polished nails caressing his scalp. A small smile made its way to your lips. 

"And I want to be close to you."

-

yes i saw the Michael movie, and yes it raised me from the dead

[dear-mono]

WHEW. goodness me yall got me clutching my pearls.

GIRL PLS KEEP WRITING OMG. I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. YOU LITERALLY ATE AND ATE AND ATE AND LEFT NOTHING. NOT EVEN CRUMBS.

[youwannabestartingsomething]

Between the Beats {Michael Jackson x Reader}

You met Michael Jackson long before the world called him the King of Pop.

Back when he was just Michael—quiet, observant, always tapping out rhythms on whatever surface was closest. A table, his thigh, your shoulder.

“Stay still,” he murmured one afternoon, fingers drumming lightly against your arm as you sat side by side on the studio couch.

“I am still,” you laughed, trying not to ruin his rhythm.

“No, you’re breathing too loud.”

“That’s a new one.”

He glanced at you, eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s throwing me off.”

“Then maybe you’re not as good as you think you are.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Wounded.”

You bumped your shoulder into his. “You’ll recover.”

He always did.

That was your thing—you challenged him, grounded him. Where others saw a star, you saw the boy who got too in his head, who needed someone to pull him back down.

And he saw you.

Not as someone in the background, not as “just a friend.” He just… hadn’t figured out what that meant yet.

Fame changed everything.

Schedules got tighter. Security got heavier. Conversations got shorter.

But somehow, you remained.

Backstage, after a long rehearsal, you handed him a bottle of water. “You’re pushing too hard again.”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, not meeting your eyes.

“You say that every time you’re not fine.”

He paused, finally looking at you—and for a second, the world fell away.

“You always know,” he said softly.

“That’s my job.”

“Since when?”

“Since you won’t take care of yourself.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s why I keep you around.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah? I thought it was my sparkling personality.”

“That too.”

But there was something in his voice—something quieter, deeper.

Something neither of you were ready to name.

Then came the distance.

Tours. Interviews. New people constantly surrounding him.

And you?

You were still there—but not as much.

One night, you watched from the side of the stage as he performed. The crowd screamed his name, reaching for him like he belonged to them.

And maybe he did.

When he came offstage, breathless and glowing, he spotted you immediately.

“There you are,” he said, walking straight over.

“I’ve been here.”

“I didn’t see you.”

You shrugged. “You’ve had a lot going on.”

His expression faltered. “That’s not—”

“It’s fine, Michael.”

But it wasn’t.

And he knew it.

The argument wasn’t supposed to happen.

It started small—something about missed calls, forgotten plans.

“You didn’t even try to call back,” you said, arms crossed.

“I’ve been busy!”

“You’re always busy!”

“Because this is my life!”

“And what am I?” you shot back, voice cracking. “Just something you fit in when it’s convenient?”

Silence.

Heavy. Suffocating.

“That’s not fair,” he said quietly.

“Then tell me what I am to you.”

He opened his mouth.

Closed it.

And that hurt more than anything.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “That’s what I thought.”

You turned and walked away before he could see the tears falling.

It took losing you for him to understand.

Everything felt off.

Music didn’t hit the same. Performances felt… empty.

Because you weren’t there.

Not in the wings. Not in the quiet moments after. Not beside him, telling him when he was overworking or teasing him when he got dramatic.

He missed you.

More than a friend should.

And that terrified him—because it meant something had been there all along.

Something he was too afraid to face.

Until now.

You didn’t expect to see him.

Not at your door. Not looking like that—nervous, unsure, vulnerable.

“Michael?”

“Can I come in?”

You hesitated.

Then stepped aside.

He paced for a moment, running a hand through his hair. “I messed up.”

You crossed your arms. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I didn’t understand,” he continued. “What you meant to me.”

“And now you do?”

He stopped, turning to face you fully.

“Yes.”

There was no hesitation this time.

“You’re not just my friend,” he said, voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. “You’re—everything feels right when you’re around. And wrong when you’re not. And I didn’t realize that until I lost you.”

Your breath caught.

“I was scared,” he admitted. “Because if I said it out loud, it would make it real. And if it’s real, I could lose it.”

“You already did,” you said softly.

His voice dropped. “Then let me fix it.”

Silence stretched between you.

“Say it,” you whispered.

“What?”

“What I am to you.”

He stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, the nervous energy practically radiating.

“You’re the person I love,” he said.

Simple.

Honest.

Terrifying.

Your heart pounded.

“You took your time figuring that out.”

A small, shaky smile crossed his face. “I know.”

Another step closer.

“Is it too late?”

You searched his face—every familiar detail, every ounce of sincerity.

Then you shook your head.

“No.”

And that was all it took.

The kiss wasn’t rushed.

It wasn’t desperate.

It was… certain.

Like something that had been waiting, building, for years.

His hand gently cupped your face, like he was afraid you might disappear.

You didn’t.

When you pulled back, foreheads resting together, he let out a quiet breath.

“I should’ve done that a long time ago.”

“Yeah,” you smiled softly. “You should’ve.”

He laughed under his breath, relief flooding through him.

“But… we got here.”

You nodded.

“Yeah. We did.”

Being with Michael wasn’t like loving anyone else.

At first, it felt like finally breathing after holding it in for years. Late-night calls, quiet laughter, stolen moments in dressing rooms where it was just you and him—not the world, not the cameras.

But the world didn’t stay out for long.

“You can’t come out with me tonight,” he said gently, not meeting your eyes as he adjusted his jacket.

You frowned. “Why not?”

“It’s… complicated.”

“Everything with you is complicated,” you muttered.

He sighed, stepping closer. “It’s just for tonight. I don’t want people—”

“To know about me?” you finished, your chest tightening.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean, Michael?”

He hesitated.

And there it was again—that silence that always said more than his words ever could.

You tried to understand.

You really did.

You told yourself it came with who he was. With fame. With pressure.

But it started to feel less like privacy… and more like being hidden.

Backstage, you stood just out of sight while he greeted people, laughed with them, charmed them effortlessly.

At one point, a woman—beautiful, confident—touched his arm, leaning in close.

You watched the way he smiled.

The way he didn’t pull away.

Something sharp twisted in your chest.

Later, when he finally found you, breathless and glowing from the attention, you didn’t smile back.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

You let out a short laugh. “Do you even hear yourself?”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you get to stand out there and be everything to everyone,” you snapped, “and I get to stand back here and pretend I’m nothing to you.”

His face fell. “That’s not true.”

“Then why does it feel like it is?”

The fight escalated faster than either of you expected.

“I’m trying to protect you,” he insisted.

“From what? Being seen with you?” your voice cracked. “God forbid someone knows you care about me.”

“That’s not fair!”

“No, what’s not fair is loving someone who acts like you’re a secret!”

“I don’t treat you like a secret—”

“You won’t even say it out there!” you cut him off. “You won’t claim me when it matters!”

His jaw tightened, frustration bleeding through. “You don’t understand what that would do.”

“Then help me understand!”

“I can’t!”

The words hit like a slap.

Silence followed—heavy, suffocating.

Your voice dropped, quieter now, more dangerous. “Then maybe I don’t belong in your life.”

His expression shifted—panic flickering beneath the surface. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” tears burned in your eyes. “You won’t fight for me out there. Why should I keep fighting for this in here?”

He reached for you.

You stepped back.

And that—more than anything—broke something in him.

This time, leaving felt different.

He didn’t chase you right away.

Maybe because he thought you’d come back.

Maybe because part of him believed you always would.

But days passed.

Then weeks.

And the silence between you grew louder than any crowd he’d ever performed for.

Michael tried to bury himself in work.

Music. Rehearsals. Interviews.

But nothing stuck.

Every song felt unfinished.

Every stage felt colder.

Because you weren’t there.

One night, alone in a hotel room, he caught his reflection in the mirror—perfectly put together, exactly what the world expected.

And he hated it.

Because none of it mattered if you weren’t beside him.

“You’re losing her,” he whispered to himself.

And for the first time—

He didn’t care about the consequences.

You weren’t expecting the knock.

And you definitely weren’t expecting him.

No disguise. No security crowd. No distance.

Just Michael.

“Can we talk?” he asked, voice rough, like he hadn’t slept.

You hesitated… but stepped aside.

He didn’t waste time this time.

“I was wrong.”

You crossed your arms, guarding yourself. “About what?”

“About everything,” he said. “About hiding you. About being afraid.”

“You were afraid,” you said quietly.

“I still am,” he admitted. “But I’m more afraid of losing you.”

Your expression wavered.

“I thought I could protect what we had by keeping it private,” he continued, “but all I did was make you feel like you didn’t matter.”

Tears stung your eyes again. “It felt like I didn’t exist.”

His voice broke. “You’re the only thing that’s ever felt real to me.”

Silence.

Then, softer—

“I don’t want to love you halfway,” he said. “I don’t want to choose my fear over you anymore.”

Your breath caught.

“So what are you saying?”

He stepped closer.

“This time,” he said, steady despite everything, “I’m choosing you. Out loud. Where it counts.”

Words weren’t enough anymore.

You both knew that.

So when he reached for your hand this time—

You didn’t pull away.

And the next time he stepped out into the world?

He didn’t let go.

Cameras flashed. People stared. Questions flew.

“Michael, who is this?”

For a split second, the old fear flickered in his eyes.

Then he tightened his grip on your hand.

And answered—

“She’s someone I love.”

Simple.

Public.

Unavoidable.

Your heart nearly stopped.

Because this time—

He didn’t hesitate.

Later, when the noise faded and it was just the two of you again, you looked at him carefully.

“That was a lot,” you said.

He let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah.”

“Are you okay?”

He nodded… then shook his head. “I don’t know. But I know I meant it.”

You stepped closer.

“You don’t have to be fearless,” you said softly. “Just… don’t shut me out.”

“I won’t,” he promised.

You studied him for a moment longer—

Then kissed him.

Not like before.

This one held everything—the hurt, the fear, the fight, the choice.

When you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.

“I’m still going to mess up sometimes,” he admitted.

“I know.”

“But I won’t run from this again.”

You smiled faintly. “Good. Because I’m not going through that again.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Fair.”

It wasn’t perfect.

It wasn’t easy.

But it was real.

And this time—

He didn’t hide you.

He chose you.

Every time.

[dear-mono]

I LOVE THIS HURT COMFORT-GET PUNCHED AGAIN FIC.

[dani-draws22]

WHATEVER HAPPENS CHAPT: 1

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DISCLAIMER! All written work is fiction and not based on real events a lot of the stuff maybe true and solely based off Michael’s interviews and movies. Also I speak two languages so if there’s any grammar mistakes PLEASE

Genre : romance and angst maybe smut idk

I will say I haven’t written a fic in years … but it’s a drought happening

Michael Jackson x reader ( it can be whoever you desire )

Series ( if the comments tell me they like it ? )

Description : love at first sight

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Y/N POV :

It was a hot summer in 1987 in the middle of Hollywood walk , I was insufferable the heat had been killing me and my roommate for days now , we had been trying to save up as much as possible for a new air conditioner . Frankly new everything . I came to LA when I was 24 full of dreams and saved up money I had worked for but unfortunately life had to hit me in the damn chest and I’m here. I still in pursue of my dream tho don’t get it twisted. I’m a model part time and artist . Although I Unfortunately work at a supermarket as well but we don’t count that I say that’s a temporary job until I can truly achieve what I want. I work part time in a gallery small part time job of course I had gotten through persuasion with the owner Marie it was called AMORA . She adored me solely because I made her laugh consistently and I sold whatever she told me to sell of course would save a portion then send it back to my parents who I know they don’t want me living off my life alone in a city they don’t know and while they work and still send me back money when they can. I want so much in life and I am going to get it .

But !

For now ! I gotta worry about not suffocating in this shoe you call an apartment. I shared with my best friend Ofelia we met in high school and we’ve been stuck ever since to describe Ofelia is to me to describe a long lost sister . And she’s my person , she also works in the supermarket the same as mine but on different shifts unfortunately the manager has caught us too many times talking to eachother together while stacking up shelves don’t get it twisted she also has dreams she wants to be a celebrity makeup artist and an actress both are amazing if people saw her as the MC In cabaret it’s to die for . Yes we both audition here and there , matter of fact I was on my way to one right now that was mentioned to me by the art director of Amora ,Lucinda I don’t know if it’s because they’ve seen that my shoes are ugly OR because I look like I’ve stayed up three nights but Lucinda’s husband is connected to the Hollywood world and she said it was supposedly a big star and that all they need is a main girl , request was to wear a black dress and some boots or heels. Which not going to lie it sounded like they wanted some and some extra change. And most importantly she gave me an address of where it was going to be mostly as she said as she nagged her husband and he gave up the addresss .Hollywood city walk theater it was a huggggggeee theater which that hosted many plays but mostly many good discoveries . Last time one was held in there it was Madonna for her world two and she discovered . It was also great cause one I was low on cash and two ! I can walk I just had to walk with my arms up so I don’t sweat . Imagine I get to the studio and I get called miss onions .

“ my god , it feels like satan hot breath in this apartment we need to find a way to get rich quick without sleeping with saggy old men “ Ofelia said as she sat near on window hoping a fresh breeze will come by . She raised her eyebrow “ you and I both know that’s one thing we’ll never do , besides we are in the middle of casting Hollywood world “ she said as she finished putting on her red lipstick “ you know .. have you gone to any more castings yet “ she asked fanning her self with a newspaper. I chuckled As I twirled around relatively with my dress it was an black dress I had to rummage through Ofelia’s closet and heels I had stolen from my mother to which she never shuts up about .

“ you do got a casting !! Where ? With who ?? “ she asked slapping my arm . “ wait why are you wearing a dress ? Your not … “ she questioned “ oh GOD NO ! OFELIA !! “ I said gasping “ listen I’m simply following a tip that the art director of my gallery mentioned . She said it was supposedly a big star and such was looking for this and it’s you know at that huge theater where Madonna held her auditions so ! I just needed to wear this “ I said pulling my dress down . “ and you know it’s good to have a foot in there .. I already feel like an outcast in these castings so it helps to know Lucinda helped me “ I said sighing as I grabbed my bag .

Ofelia looked at me with sadness and a glint of hope in her eye , she and I both know the struggle of being ourselves in this world we both come from the same culture and want to step into a world that doesn’t accept different cultures it’s difficult.

“ mi hermana ( my sister ) i wish you the best luck ! “ she said getting up “ you got this , don’t let these people mess with you , you walk in there like you OWN the place because if you don’t already know you are that girl “ she said grabbing my face and giving me a hug “ now go I gotta get ready for me shift , you know Mr Wilson gets angry if your a minute late !” She said almost pushing me out of the door .

And with that I was on my way to the casting studio or place ? Oh god let this be it .

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MJ POV

We arrived at this theater right on the center of Hollywood walk , where if you had seen the line outside of the theater you would have thought it was a meet and greet. Q , me , Bill and the Casting director had arrived to the theater an hour before and I had to of course dress up as an old man to be able to get inside without people realizing who I was .

Infact I couldn’t even say “ oh by the way you are at a Michael Jackson audition “ it had to be oh it’s a big artist. Which is what I wanted , to be fair with fame it comes playing these types of games of who’s really with me for me and who’s really with me to get a new car , or to sell some silly story to the tabloids that I floating on the air when I’m sleeping or to simply say hey I slept with Michael Jackson .

I see A lot of attitudes change when they see who they are coming to audition for.

“ you see Mike , isn’t this nice wel be able to see the girls nicely from here “ the casting director joe said showing the stage . “ we’l do one by one ask the name and simply ask them to walk back and forth “ Q said as he walked behind me

I walked in and looked at the stage it was huge, my goodness I looked around at the decoration it was stunning I was a sucker for art like this it looked like Apollo and Louie the 14th had come up with a plan together to design it . I nodded to Q’s plan and grabbed the notebook I had brought “ let’s get the show on the road man “ Q said clapping his hands as we took our seat

And with that the doors for the auditorium opened and the girls came in. I knew I was in for a long night it was about 12 :00 pm and we had to about see EVERYBODY . Don’t get me wrong alot of the girls were stunning beautiful , but the song the way you make me feel you needed a groove , I needed someone to walk into a room and break everyone’s need as they walked in. I must have been mumbling to myself cause Q said “ what Mike nobody has caught your eye ? “ he said leaning back . “ you’ve turned away 10000 girls by now boy what’s wrong with you ?” Q said shaking his head . I shook my head and chuckled. “ trust me that I’ll know what I know “ I said affirmatively . Just as I was looking up from my statement there she was ..

She was 5,4 or 5, 2. Short for a model but wow and just as she walked to give joes assistant her headshot every men and women’s head turned . She was just stunning to look at , her hair , her big eyes . I felt myself choking up. I just kept staring at her and I know she felt the stare because she kept looking specifically at my direction.

Thank god I was in the darkest part of the stadium because I looked like a damn fool I had been putting on a funky voice the whole audition and just as I was about to speak I couldn’t ..

“ I - uh “ I managed to say before Quincy noticed and chuckled loudly

“ Hello miss “ he read from your headshot “ y/n I see here your under height for being a model . Do you really think you’d get the role ?”quincy said pulling down his glances .

“ well , I’d say that with that mentality we wouldn’t be able to do anything would be ? I think and have gotten casting before for modeling , I can walk with heels with no problem besides I think i can do what you are requesting right to walk ? “ she said with her hands on her hips confidently.

I had spend about 5 hrs trying to get through the 5 questions I had written down and yet I’m speechless right now what’s wrong with me .

I cleared my throat mask my voice “ well alright “ “

Show us your walk please “ I said while looking at her ,

As she walked she swayed her hips and when she looked back any man who was in her way would swoon at the sight.

That’s when I knew she was the girl for the video “ she’s the one I want “ I whispered to Quincy “ Very well miss y/n well contact you as soon as possible thank you “ Quincy said smiling as y/n stood and nodded “ thank you everyone for the opportunity “ she said smiling as she grabbed her bag and made her way out . And I was watching her on her way out too.

Quincy and bill looked at me laughing so hard they could not breath “ man what ?” I said turning to them

“ listen here joker , I haven’t seen THAT look since you know who happened “ Bill said referring to my past relationship.

“ I’m a healthy 28 year old man who simply was admiring a beautiful woman “ I said clearing my throat blushing as I gathered my papers .

Quincy chuckled as he finished off telling his assistant to tell the other girls they had finally found the girl “ yeah you admired her so bad you choked “ Quincy said

Apparently people now days can’t appreciate beauty geez. It does not mean she got me.

————//-//—————————-/——-/-/——-/————-

[rockurwurld]

THE LADY IN MY LIFE

era - thriller

warnings - making out, kinda smutty at the end, inexperienced!michael, fem!reader

"wow that movie was.. really bad" you say once the credits roll "really? i thought it was pretty good" michael says. your eyes follow him as he gets up to turn off the tv and play music instead.

you dont really pay attention to the lyrics of the song, but you can tell its supposed to be somewhat romantic. he sits back down next to you on the couch but closer than before. "so uh.. what do you wanna do now?" he says with a nervous smile on his face.

he puts his arm around you and turns to face you. you place your hand on his neck and look at him, hes still smiling but this time it turns into a sheepish giggle.

he leans in to kiss you, starting off slow but kissing deeper and more passionately as he gains more confidence. once you guys finally come up to breathe, you kiss the corner of his lip, then his jaw, and trail down to his neck. he lets out a breathy laugh and then whispers to you "that feels good.." his fingers run through your hair as he trys to hold back his moans. you start kissing back up to his jaw. "can i try now?" he whispers, and you let him.

he presses soft kisses to your neck, then open mouthed ones, looking at your face to study your reactions. he starts sucking and you moan his name ever so sweetly. "like that baby?" he whispers in your ear. "uh huh" you say before he starts kissing your lips again, this time with tongue. his hands roam around your body, from under your shirt, to squeezing your thighs. your hands trail down from his neck to his chest before you unbutton his shirt to kiss his collarbone.

you move around to find his sweet spot, and when you hear a particularly loud moan after kissing below his ear you keep going. you start sucking that spot and he pulls you onto his lap, straddling him now. you move around a bit to get comfortable after feeling something in his pocket. "please stop moving" michael whimpers while looking down in embarrassment. you look down and giggle softly before saying sorry and getting back to kissing his neck. his hands move down to grip your hips, before moaning again. one hand moves up to rest behind your neck, before stopping mid moan.

he slowly picks you up and places you next to him on the couch and cups himself before saying "uh- i.. sorry" while breathing heavily "you okay michael?" "sorry i just.. uh" he gets up to go to the bathroom but you notice a darker spot in the place he was covering. your eyes widen. "oh."

you rush to the bathroom door to wait for him to clean up. once hes done he steps out and says "im really sorry i just haven't done anything like that before.." "its really okay michael, you have nothing to be embarrassed about" he smiles a bit before kissing you.

"can we uh- do that again?" he says.

"we can go even further if you'd like."

[mikesfavfish]

YOU ROCK MY WORLD - michael jackson x f! reader

PART ONE: reader is in the music/acting industry in which she's assigned a role in acting in the one and only, michael jackson's music video for "You Rock My World."

warnings: none but FLUFF. also not proof-read at alllll.

wc: 1.5K

a/n: my first piece of work ever! this is def a part one to something that could be more. please let me know if you want more/what you think!!!!

AUGUST 2001

lights, camera, action.

you were on set for what seemed like a long time, but your complaints weren’t spoken out loud. you were fortunate to be able to be a part of something so special, for a very special person. 

you were currently in the stage of your career where while you were loved and recognized by many for your talents, you knew that you needed your name more out there. your manager, whom you loved very much, knew this well enough that after pulling some strings, she got you to be a part of a short film for a music video of a “special someone.” 

while you didn’t ask no questions, you couldn’t help but feel the nerves in your stomach as you and your manager rode in silence down the streets of Los Angeles, California. you had plenty of questions of course, but you chose to keep silent. you trusted your manager enough to know she’d never put you in an uncomfortable situation of any sorts. 

after some time of driving, you come to a stop. you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and turn to your manager. “do i look okay?” 

“y/n, you look amazing. believe in yourself, okay? listen, you deserve to be here as much as these other big names, even bigger than yours,” your manager reassures you. you nod and give her a smile as the car door is opened by a man in his thirties. 

“follow me,” he directed, and you both followed orderly. you looked around, and noticed that the set was very much like a movie. you were shocked, who could afford a budget so high like this? typically, recording companies loan you money to even afford to participate in something like this. keeping the thought in your head, you continue following the man until you come inside a building. there was sound all around. people constantly talking, clothes everything being adjusted, and even music playing the back. 

the environment was a little overstimulating, but you took a breath and smiled as the man wrote down some things on his clipboard. “they’ll be with you in just a sec, okay? hold tight.” you gave a small nod and continued to look around. you were about to say something to your manager before a phone call interrupts her. 

“be right back, y/n. look around if you wish, get comfortable. you’ll be here for some time.” i huff a nervous breath and start walking around, careful not to bump into anyone. i find a beautiful blue dress that catches my attention. looking around, i softly feel the material. it was a beautiful shade of blue with a silky matieral that was perfectly stiched to highlight the curves of whoever was wearing the dress. 

you started to smile, and were picturing yourself in the dress before a voice catches your attention. “do you like it?” 

you turn to look, and it takes every single cell in your body to stop you from fainting. “it’s very beautiful, yes.” 

“good. because that’ll be the dress you’ll be wearing. unless, you don’t really like it and would like something else to be comfortable in?” he says, giving you a small smile. you shake your head and subconsicously lower it, but how could you resist? 

“i’ll be wearing that?” he tilts his head, and you ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you find the move attractive. hey, it’s been a while. 

“sorry, it’s just, i wasn’t told what this project would be about. my manager tried to suprise me, and i can see why. you’re michael jackson. and i haven’t introduced myself… i”m-“ 

“i know who you are, that’s why i asked for you.” you are taken aback. he knows who you are? 

“you know who i am?” you softly ask, shocked at his response. with all his status in the world, you’d think he’d only listen to the greats or his collaborators, not some smaller artist who’s trying to go big. 

“of course i do, y/n. i’m a fan of your music, and your acting. i mean, not everybody carries the talent to be able to do both. you know, one of my sisters has your record in her bedroom. she’d be so mad at me if i didn’t get an autograph for her, if you don’t mind.” michael says, playfully shoving his shoulder into you as you laugh and smile. 

“thank you. that means a lot, especially coming from you.” you’re about to say more before a young man approaches you two.

“mike, i see you’ve met ms. y/n, vice versa. you two will be having lots of chemistry together, so continue to keep this going. listen, i’m meeting some folks for the equipment, but i’ll be back later this evening for some notes. your homework is to get to know each other, and stay close. seriously. mike, your yearning has to show a lot in this video.” we both give him a small and nod and wave as he walks off with some people behind him asking him questions. 

“is he the director?” michael nods, and tucks his hair behind his ear. 

“well, we heard the man. we have homework. want to take a walk around set?” michael asks, and i nod. he grabs my hand and i look down. he looks at me, and i look up. i give him a smile and look away, blushing. i pretend not to notice his smirk as we walk outside the building and down the blocked street of the studio. 

“so, tell me about yourself, y/n. what got you into making music?” michael asks, and i sigh.

“it’s honestly more depressing when i say it out loud. when i was young, i used to struggle making friendships. i used to be the weird kid who couldn’t form a word without feeling anxious or like i messed up. so i would write all those feelings down, and eventually found myself creating music. i started to only use my voice to sing, and eventually, i was pushed to release a song. i didn’t think anyone would listen, but eventually, i started to become known. my manager found me, signed me on a decent record label, and now i’m here. i’ve been acting for some time now, trying to expand my talents.” i didn’t realize i’d been talking for some time until i looked around and realized we were at the other end of the studio, where there was nobody around. i look at michael, and try to find the emotion behind his look. 

“sorry, you were probably looking for some other reason, not some sob story.” i nervously say as i bite my lip. i cross my arms over my chest and concentrate on my shoes. 

“that isn’t a sob story, girl, it’s your foundation, what made you. and that matters. i’m sorry you went through that, truly. every child deserves to live a life full of play, laughter, and companionship.” i nod and notice the sadness behind his eyes as he comforts me. 

“what’s your favorite part about making music?” i ask. i didn’t want to ask him the same question he asked me. while reading tabloids isn’t the best thing in the world, everyone in the world knew about how and why the infamous michael jackson got into making music. the thought of him being coerced into an act he wasn’t in favor of angered me, but i pushed down the feeling. 

“connecting with the fans around the world. i’ve been to different places around this world, and seeing the faces of the people in the crowds as they sing along to my music is something so special. music changes the world every day, and i’m very blessed to be able to be a special part of those people’s lives.” as michael talks, i can’t help but notice his features that make him so trusting. the way his eyes light up as he talks about his fans, the way his smile reaches his eyes. i feel the butterflies swarm up as i listen. 

“i’ve never heard anyone in our industry describe music that way, and i truly do agree with that. i mean, i don’t know where i’d be with my fans.” 

“you’d still be here. you’ve achieved so much because of your beautiful voice and talent, y/n. give yourself credit, girl.” michael softly says as he smiles at me. i nod and lick my lips, tucking my hands into my jeans. 

as we continue our walk and conversation, i can’t help but think of the kindness michael has shown me, and i’ve only known him for an hour. he’s nothing like the world says, and it’s comforting to know he too knows me in a way the world doesn’t either. walking down the street, i was curious as to why we were getting looks by the crew but it started to make sense when i looked down and saw that michael and i were still holding hands. 

[linaaaa3]

All Because Of You

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1987

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Synopsis: Michael Is at the studio and he can't get you out of his mind, so he calls you up there to give you something to remember.

Tags: love, interconnected, Comfort, Support, happiness, slow burn, fluff, smut.

TW: NSFW, established relationship, 18+, Fingering, orgasm, and more…

Word count: 1k

Aurthor’s note: First time writing a short story on here, be nice!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michael sat in the studio with Quincy, feeling a sense of normalcy wash over him, much like any other day. As he adjusted his headphones, he sensed a familiar comfort in the routine. Quincy gave him the cue to start, and with a gentle nod, Michael began to sing "Liberian Girl." But as he poured his heart into each note, his thoughts drifted to you. Your sweet face, which he cherished deeply, filled his mind, transforming every lyric into a heartfelt tribute to the love he felt for you. Michael felt a deep longing for your presence at that moment, but he was caught up in his work. He was determined to finish the song for his album, knowing how important it was to him. Balancing his emotions with his responsibilities was difficult, and he hoped you could understand the urgency he felt. Quincy glanced over at Michael, a hint of anticipation in his voice. "We’re about to dive into the vocals, Michael. You ready?" He could see Michael lost in thought, a distant look in his eyes.

Michael took a moment to shake off the distraction as he contemplated the long hours they had ahead in the studio. With a deep, steadying breath, he braced himself for the intensity of the work. Yet, even amidst the flurry of musical notes and melodies swirling around him, his mind kept drifting back to thoughts of you. The yearning to see you again cast a shadow over his focus, making the hours seem even longer as he mentally counted down to the moment he would be reunited with you.

Just a few hours into an intense recording session, Michael felt a surge of impatience coursing through him—he had to see you. Without a second thought, he shot you a text, urging you to meet him at the studio because something important was on his mind. “Quincy, I need to take a break,” he announced, his voice tinged with urgency. “It’s been hours of non-stop recording, and I need to rejuvenate.” Quincy, sensing the weight of Michael’s emotions, nodded empathetically. “I understand. Just let me know if you need anything,” he replied before heading out the door, likely to find refuge in the break room. The tension in the air was palpable, and the anticipation of what Michael wanted to share added an electric thrill to the moment!

Michael reclined on the couch, anxiously awaiting your arrival. He found himself missing your presence—the comforting scent that lingered in the air and the graceful way your hips swayed as you walked. Overwhelmed by emotions, he gently closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath, longing for the warmth of your company.

He heard the soft click of the door swinging open, yet kept his eyes shut, assuming it was Quincy entering the room. “Michael,” you whispered gently, your voice a warm caress in the stillness. Instantly, his eyelids fluttered open, revealing a smile that lit up his face. He sat up quickly, drawing you into a tender embrace, the warmth of his body enveloping you like a cozy blanket. As he inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of you filled his senses, and he let out a slow exhale, his breath brushing against your skin and sending delightful shivers cascading down your spine.

“I missed you so much, Princess,” he murmured, his warm breath brushing against your lips. You returned his gentle gaze with a soft smile, lightly caressing his hair. “I missed you too, Michael. I wanted to come sooner, but I didn’t want to impose on you,” you confessed, looking into his deep brown eyes, filled with understanding.

Michael furrowed his brow, his eyebrows arching upward in surprise. “You should have come,” he said, his voice low and gentle, yet laced with concern. “You’re never intruding on anything.” The warmth in his tone contrasted with the seriousness of his expression, inviting reassurance.

Michael gently takes your hand, leading you into a dimly lit, isolated room. As he closes the door behind you, he makes sure to lock it securely, creating a barrier between you and the outside world. He glances around to ensure no one is watching before turning off his microphone, signaling that this moment is private. With a sense of urgency, he pulls you into a corner of the room, tucking you both away from the view of the large window. The air feels charged as he leans in closer, creating a sense of intimacy in this hidden space away from prying eyes.

With a smoldering intensity in his eyes, he bites his lip, gently cradling your face as he pulls you into a passionate, fiery kiss that ignites the air around you. You let out a soft gasp at his boldness, considering that Michael is the shy type, you just don't know what has gotten into him. His fingers trickle up your back, causing shivers making it so much more intense. The sound of you and Michael’s lips together got more heated within seconds. He pulled away just a little to catch his breath and to look at your beauty, his eyes grazed at the arousal on your face and how flustered you were.

He gave you a beautiful smile kissing your lips, his hair in a frizzy ponytail to the back with his few curls hanging in his face, you could see little spots of his vitiligo and it only made him look even lovelier, You loved that, even if he didn't.

“You are so beautiful” he whispered brushing his lips on your neck and nibbling on your soft skin, he gripped your waist pulling you flush against him. You let out a soft moan, only making Michael want you more, his self-control slipping away by the second.

“Michael, Get out of there!” Quincy spoke knocking on the glass. Michael looked at me, “Moan” he directly asked, “W-What-” You spoke in confusion, getting cut off by Michael’s hand in your panties, and began to rub your bud fast, keeping eye contact. You closed your eyes bit, your lip, and let a groan come out, “Baby let him know what's happening, louder,” he slipped his two fingers inside of you causing you to let out a breathy moan, “M-Michael,” You moaned. Michael's eyes darkened. “Louder baby,” he whispered, the pace of his fingers fastening, and gliding inside you with ease from your slippery walls. Your mouth opened letting out whimpers, grabbing hold of his arms for support, for you had gone almost weak in the knees.

He went faster feeling you clench around his fingers, “Michael, M-Fuck!” the feeling in your abdomen tightened. Michael watched the desire on your face with a smirk enjoying every second of it, while he on the other hand was aroused, he was damn near the edge without touching himself, But your pleasures always come first.

You pulsated on his Fingers, feeling your panties covered in your essence. You bit your lip gripping his shoulders hard, feeling yourself about to cum. You held onto the release until you felt a familiar coil in your abdomen, “Michael…” You let out helplessly, as you came hard on his fingers breathing hard. He slowly slipped his fingers out with a ‘Pop’ sound and brought them to his mouth sucking them dry.

[anonymouspyt]

The Midnight Hour 🌗

Word Count: 4.9k

Warning(s): slight angst

October 31, 1982. Washington, D.C.

"HU!" someone called out. A thunderous eruption replied back. "You know!"

It was another celebratory football game at Howard University, and today was especially significant— homecoming, on Halloween night no less. In a sudden turn of events, Hampton University, their long-standing rival school, suffered a stunning 11-29 defeat, adding yet another notch to the illustrious Bison winning streak.

You welcomed the cool autumn breeze as you walked out of the football stadium with your friends, Regina and Krystal. "Man, what a game!" you exclaimed.

Krystal nodded, falling into step with you and linking arms. "You're telling me! My man Lance was killing it out there."

You exchanged an amused look with Regina, who linked arms through yours. "Here she go..."

"Whaaat?" Krystal asked the both of you, feigning shock. "Y'all know I'm proud of Lance Fields, my man, Howard's Very Own—"

You and Regina cut in mock exaggeration: "Two-time MVP quarterback."

Regina grinned. "Girl, we know!" she added, shooting Krystal a knowing look.

Krystal scowled at both of you, making you and Regina laugh harder. "Both of y'all heffas are some haters!" she scoffed. "I don't hear nothin' when y'all's hatin asses be coming with me to all those frat parties though."

"Of course not. How else will we get in?" you joked, causing Krystal to drop her arm from yours, earning another laugh from Regina.

Krystal rolled her eyes good-naturedly and bumped your shoulder. "Y'all get on my damn nerves!"

The three of you laughed and continued down the long pavement leading out of the stadium, your boots clicking against the asphalt as you turned the corner.

"Speaking of parties..." Regina trailed off, her lips curling into a smirk. "What's good with that Halloween party at the Alpha House?"

You grinned and glanced over at Krystal. "Yeah, Krys, let us know!"

"All I know from Ezekiel is that the party don't start 'til close to midnight." Krystal shrugged.

Regina hummed approvingly. "That's my type of party! What you thinkin', Y/N?"

You arched your brow and paused for a moment, letting the suspense build between your two friends.

"You know I'm down!" you laughed, holding your closed fist out for them to dap.

Krystal and Regina bumped your hands, laughing as other students pass y'all by. The three of you turned down the corner and started heading in the direction of the Quad.

You didn't get too far when you heard someone call out. "Hey, pretty!"

You stopped in your tracks and looked over your shoulder to follow the voice. Your eyes immediately lock onto the mysterious person.

Decked out in his own varsity letterman from his university, the vibrant red and yellow popped beautifully against his smooth skin. His broad shoulders filled the roomy jacket effortlessly. Beneath it, he wore a red, navy, blue, and white flannel button-down tucked into Levi's 501 medium wash jeans that hugged his lean, muscular frame. On his feet were his favorite brown penny loafers, one ankle crossing over the other as he leaned casually against his silver Chevrolet Bel-Air convertible. He smirked slightly when he caught your surprised reaction to his call.

You gasped loudly, turning around fully. "Michael!"

You couldn't believe your eyes as you took him in.

There he was.

Michael Jackson.

YOUR MAN.

You couldn't help the grin plastered across your face.

Krystal and Regina exchanged knowing looks.

Regina eyed the back of your head, smirked, and teased, "Raincheck?"

You waved them off as they laughed their way toward the Quad. You could hear them call, "Bye girl!" as you headed toward Michael.

You ran over to him and jumped to his arms. "Oh my god!"

Michael caught you effortlessly, wrapping his arms around your waist as he lifted you slightly off the ground.

"Hey, beautiful." he murmured in that smooth tone that makes your knees go weak every time.

You pulled back to look at him once he set you down. "I thought you couldn't make it?"

"And miss a chance in seeing my girl? Ain't no way." Michael smiled charmingly as he gave you a slow once-over. He pulled you in closer by the waist, closing the gap to capture your lips in a long-awaited kiss.

You kissed him back gladly, wrapping your arms around to hug his neck, deepening the kiss slightly.

When he finally pulled away, Michael splayed his fingers across your back, sliding his hands around until they rested on your hips. "Damn girl, you look good." He licked his lips at you, his gaze dragging down your fitted black color-block striped turtleneck, divided cleanly into two panels. On the left, thick stripes of red, gold, burnt orange stood out boldly while the right contrasts with thinner neutral stripes of white, gray, and black. The sweater paired perfectly with your black mini skirt, sheer black pantyhose and matching black boots, completing your sleek look.

"So do you.." you grinned, gripping the ribbed collar of his letterman, and pulling him back in for another kiss. You couldn't help it, you haven't see the man since you both left for school nearly three months ago, and the warm, musky scent of his cologne was driving your senses haywire.

Suddenly, an influx of members from the football team poured out of the stadium, chanting back and forth at the top of their lungs.

"HU!" "You know!"

Some of the team parted ways and jaywalked across the street near Michael's car.

Trying to keep the momentum going, the two of you kept kissing until the moment was interrupted by a round of wolf-whistles and playful catcalls.

"I see you, Mike!" Lance Fields shouted, walking over to you both.

Michael pulled away, chuckling as he clasped Lance's hand, keeping his other hand resting on your hip. "Lance, what's up man?"

"That three-peat is what's up! We'll be looking forward to kicking some Tuskegee butt in 3 weeks!" Lance smirked, backpedaling as he spoke.

"Yeah, alright." Michael laughed. "We'll see about that!"

Lance chuckled. "Anyway, y'all coming through to the party tonight?"

Michael's free hand returned to your hip. "Nah, we're going to see a movie and hang out later."

"Yeah." You ran your hands up Michael's sides, glancing at Lance over your shoulder. "We'll catch y'all next time though."

Lance's smirk widened as he looked between the two of you. "Alright.." he backpedaled again to catch up with his teammates heading to their cars. "Y'all be easy."

You and Michael watched him until he was out of sight.

Then Michael gently squeezed your hips, drawing your attention back to him. "You ready?"

You nodded, a small smirk forming. "Yeah, let's go."

With that, Michael released you, opened your door with a flourish, like the gentleman he is, and helped you in before rounding the back of the car to the driver's side. He slid in, started the engine, and the two of you pulled off the university grounds.

⋆₊ ☽༺⋆ཐི◯ཋྀ⋆༻ ☾₊⋆

"I'm not like other guys."

                  "Of course not, that's why I love you."

"No, I mean I'm different."

                                  "What are you talking about?"

You shook your head, chomping down on the popcorn in your lap. "Girl, don't fall for it! He's bout to trap you!" you called out to the actors on the movie screen.

A few people in the theater laughed, and a few others shushed you. You shushed them back.

You and Michael were sitting in the theater watching Vincent Price's Thriller. The theatre was only showing the movie tonight, given the holiday— it was the perfect choice for your highly anticipated date night.

Pulling some spray butter from your purse, you shifted your gaze between the actor on screen and Michael's stunning side profile as you sprayed down the popcorn.

"You know, you look just like that actor."

Michael turned to you in disbelief. "Who? John Jay Smith?"

You looked at your boyfriend with amusement. "Yeah." you stated obviously, tossing the popcorn around in the bucket.

"Really?" he asked, tilting his head curiously.

"Yeah," you reaffirmed, your eyes tracing along his neck. "The similarities are almost uncanny."

Michael paused, glancing between you and the actor on screen. They were identical all the way down to the brown loafers. He shrugged. "I don't see it."

You rolled your eyes and waved him off, tucking your spray bottle back in your purse beside you.

On the screen, the dark clouds parted to reveal the full moon, its glow accompanied the climatic, ominous film score. The actor twitched and squirmed in discomfort, locking eyes with the actress before bending over in pain and letting out a piercing scream, clutching his stomach.

"Are you alright?"

                                                           "GO AWAY!"

The actress screamed loud, eyes wide, her fingers shaking near her face.

"Girl you're in the middle of the woods! Can't nobody hear you. Get your ass outta there!" you hollered, clearly invested in the film.

Michael glanced over at you, grinning with a mix of bashfulness and slight amusement. "Baby..." he murmured.

You met his eyes, feigning shock."What? That girl is watching her man turn into a whole werewolf and her dumb ass is just standing there, screaming and hollering."

"He looks like more of a were-cat to me." Michael shrugged, taking the popcorn bucket from you and reaching in his pocket for his mini bottle of Tabasco, shaking it over the buttery kernels.

You huffed. "Whatever he's turning into, I wouldn't be sticking around to find out!"

You grabbed a handful of the now mildly spicy popcorn and popped some into your mouth. Michael laughed and ate some too.

The graphic effects of the transformation were wildly entertaining to you— the actor's whiskers stretching from his cheeks, his palms expanded, his newly white, elongated sideburns grew, claws gruesomely punctured out of his fingertips, and his sharpened top row of teeth overlapped the bottom. Your eyes danced as his neck arched back and he let out a thunderous roar in his new were-cat form.

You chuckled, sipping your soda from the cup holder between you and Michael.

The actor was full on growling, the actress was still steady screaming. Your eyes were glued to the screen as you shouted. "GIRL RUN!"

As if she could hear you, the actress ran, weaving swiftly through the tall trees. She paused briefly to catch her breath before plunging back into the foggy, murky woods. Her pace slowed, convinced she had lost the man-turned-creature on her tail.  

Suddenly, the actor leapt in front of her, making her stumble to the ground in shock. Fear and dread filled her eyes as he towered over her in his full were-cat form, growling and salivating, claws curling menacingly.

"Carol, he's over here!"

"God, look at that thing."

"LOOK OUT!"

A frenzy of gunshots were fired off but the bullets barely fazed him. Anger building, he lunged at the new actors that arrived on screen, ripping them apart limb by limb. 

The terrifying scene had the most of the people in the theater squirming. That is, except for you and Michael. You both laughed.

Michael looked over at you, amusement in his eyes. "You're not scared at all, are you?"

"Why?" you said casually with a shrug. "It's only a movie." 

He chuckled, rolling his eyes as he placed the popcorn back in your lap. Turning back to the screen, more shrilling screams rang out from the actress, and he grinned, just as invested as you were.

⋆₊ ☽༺⋆ཐི◯ཋྀ⋆༻ ☾₊⋆

The two of you walked out of the theater, Michael's arm was thrown over your shoulder while yours was tucked under his letterman jacket around his waist once again.

"That was such a good movie!" Michael said with a contented sigh.

You smiled. "It was... even though you chickened out on me towards the end."

Michael smacked his lips and shot you a side eye. "Did not."

"Did too." You looked up at him as you started the path to his car, then gasped, realization dawning. Slowly, your lips curled into a mischievous grin. "You were scared weren't you?"

He playfully scoffed. "I wasn't THAT scared!"

"Yeah.. you were scared." You laughed.

Michael wiggled his finger down the inside of your turtleneck to poke your skin, making you to laugh even harder.

You squirmed, trying to push him off. "Michael!"

He targeted your sides, where he knows you're most ticklish, grinning wildly at your fit of giggles.

You managed to wriggle free and sprinted toward his car.

"Come here, girl!" he laughed after you, his infectious laughter chasing you, his long legs eating up the distance.

But as he jogged back toward the car, a woman suddenly stepped into his path. She smirked up at him. "Hey Michael, baby. Remember me?"

Michael stopped dead in his tracks, still catching his breath. "Janelle... hey."

You heard the woman's flirtatious laughter behind you. Immediately, you spun on your boots and retraced your steps, your eyes narrowing as you saw her getting a little too handsy with your man.

You stepped between them, keeping your eyes locked on her, recognizing her instantly. "Janelle."

She smirked, her fingers resting over the large chenille "M" on Michael's jacket. "Y/N... funny running into you here."

"Oh, I bet it is." you snapped, planting your hands on your hips. "And it's about to get real hilarious if you don't take your hands off my man."

Janelle narrowed her eyes. "Your man?"

"Yes." you said, stepping in her space. "My man. You got a problem with that?"

"And if I do?" she challenged.

You smirked dangerously. "We can solve that problem right now."

Michael tried to intervene. "Y/N, baby... you don't have to—"

"Shut up, Michael." Your voice dropped, low and lethal. Your glare never left Janelle. "I said.. take your hands OFF." You shoved her hard. She stumbled back, arms flailing, barely catching herself before hitting the pavement.

Michael didn't notice the flicker in your eyes. But Janelle did.

Whatever she saw made her scream in pure terror.

He quickly wrapped his arms around you to pull you back, surprised at how strong you were, trying to break free.

"Stay the fuck away from my man, you thirsty trick!"

Janelle scrambled to her feet and ran toward the theater. "Oh my god! This bitch is crazy!"

"Oh, I'll show you crazy!" You struggled against Michael's tight hold, forcing him to use all of his strength to get you to his car.

Once there, you shoved his hands off. "Get your damn hands off of me, Michael!" you huffed. "Is this what you've been doing while you were up in Tuskegee? Huh?"

"No, baby! No." Michael reached out for your arm but you pushed him away and turned toward the car.

He turned you back, gently taking your arms in both hands. "I only have eyes for you, pretty girl."

The sincerity look in his gaze softened your glare a little. You sighed as Michael rubbed your arms up and down soothingly. "Lemme make it up to you. Milkshakes on me?"

You stared at him for a moment, processing the last few minutes. The thought crossed your mind that the gesture might be a way to compensate for something. Letting that intrusive thought win, you huffed, pushed his hands away, and turned to get in the car. "Let's just go."

Michael clenched his jaw, rolling his eyes at himself before shutting the door. He walked around the car, got in, and drove out of the parking lot.

⋆₊ ☽༺⋆ཐི◯ཋྀ⋆༻ ☾₊⋆

The silver Chevrolet glistened in the moonlight as it curved around the edge of a quiet wooded forest. The engine suddenly sputtered, puffing out weak bursts of smoke. The car slowed, its tires crunching over the gravel until it rolled to a complete stop.

Crickets chirped. Frogs croaked. A soft breeze drifted through the tress, battling with the faint scent of burning fumes surrounding the two of you.

You were already irritated from earlier but this took the cake. You turned your head toward Michael, who wore the most sheepish expression.

He shrugged with an almost amused look. "Honestly, we're out of gas."

"The fuck do you mean we're out of gas, Michael?!" you snapped. "The car has been running fine all night— how do you just run out of gas?!"

"I don't know," he said helplessly. "It just happened!"

"Oh, just like that bullshit with Janelle just 'happened', right?"

Michael sighed, frustrated. "Baby..."

"Don't baby meMichael Jackson!" You scoffed and threw open the door. "Maybe you should go baby Janelle! I'm sure that shit'll work just fine on her!"

You slammed the door shut and stormed down the rocky, gravel path.

Michael gasped. "Y/N!" he called, immediately jumping out of the car to follow you.

"Leave me alone, Michael!"

He hurried after you, his eyes darting nervously along the tree line. He tried not to show it but he was on edge. "Will you just stop a minute?"

"No!"

You tried to yank away when he caught your hand, but with his annoyingly quick reflexes, he spun you around to face him. You don't say a word but you really don't have to— your eyes told everything.

Michael's expression softened. He cupped your face gently between his hands, trying to calm you down. "Y/N... you are the only one I want. I've been loyal to you since we got together last year and I have no plans on changing that."

Your lips curved into a soft smile. "You mean that?"

"You know I do." He brought your face closer and kissed you with deep, reassuring passion. When he pulled back, his dark brown irises gleamed under the moonlight. "I love you, Y/N."

You spoke with conviction. "I love you more, Michael."

Michael was pleased with your answer. Then, nerves flickered across his face. "There's something I want to give you."

You tilted your head. "What?"

His eyes danced across your face before he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small velvet box. He opened it slowly, revealing a gold-plated chain with a ruby heart pendant shimmering under the stars.

"Oh my god, Michael." You gasped, covering your mouth. "It's beautiful!"

Michael smiled softly. "You like it? I was gonna wait until our anniversary but after that mess with Janelle, the timing felt—"

You cut him off by throwing your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "I love it. And I love you!"

He wrapped his free arm around your waist immediately, holding you close. When you finally released him, he gestured for you to turn around so he could put the necklace on.

You gigged softly as you turned, allowing Michael to clasp it around your neck. You touched the pendant delicately before facing him again. "So, how do I look?"

The full moon glowed behind you, illuminating your silhouette. Michael beamed brightly. "Magical."

He drew you in by the hips and kissed you again, this time with more passion. You gladly reciprocated his affections, cupping his jaw. As you two embraced, the dark clouds began drifting across the full moon.

Michael pulled away, still wearing that exuberant smile. You mirrored it, pressing your hands into the front of his letterman. "You know I love you, right?" you asked softly.

"Yes, baby. I do." He chuckled, grazing over your hair with his large hand.

You nodded. "And you love me... the way I love you?"

"Of course, I do, Y/N. C'mon girl, I wouldn't have given you this necklace otherwise."

You laughed lightly. "Yeah, I guess you're right." Your smile slowly faded, replaced by something more serious. 

"But... there's something I have to tell you."

Michael's brows furrowed. "Okay, you know you can tell me anything."

"I know, I know... but what I'm about to say isn't easy."

Concern quickly replaced his confusion. "Baby... what is it?"

You paused. "Do you remember when Janelle screamed after I pushed her down?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"She saw something in my eyes that only a few people ever get to see." You held his gaze firmly.

Michael shook his head, trying to make sense of it. "Wait, I don't understand. You were just upset at her."

A small chuckle escaped you. "Yes." You ran your hands down his arms, taking his in yours. "I was very upset at that, but I was also upset when you didn't pull away from her either."

Michael's breath caught as he looked into your eyes. And in that moment, he finally understood why Janelle screamed as loud as she did.

Your eyes were pitch black. Eerily empty.

"Baby... i-it wasn't like that." he stammered. "I was shocked, that's all. I told her that she needed to back off."

Your grip tightened on his hands, your dark eyes boring into him. "No one likes a liar, Michael."

Michael blinked rapidly, panic rising. "Okay— okay. I didn't push her off, but I didn't do anything with her, Y/N. I'm not lying, I swear!"

"You aren't now..." you snarled. "But that's okay. Wouldn't you like to know why?"

A tense silence hung between you, broken only by the shaky, hesitant breath he exhaled.

"Why?" he whispered.

Your lips curled into a slow, conspicuous, cryptic smile. "Because you belong to me now."

Michael barely had a second to react before he saw your teeth sharpened into fangs. In one swift motion, you grabbed his Jheri curl, yanked his head back to expose his neck, and sank your fangs into his pulse point.

Everything went black.

⋆₊ ☽༺⋆ཐི◯ཋྀ⋆༻ ☾₊⋆

After a few moments, Michael's eyes fluttered open. As his vision adjusted, he realized he was no longer in the woods with you. Instead, he was lying in the middle of a dark alley, the glow of scattered streetlights cutting through the fog and illuminating the narrow path.

He gasped and immediately touched his neck— searching for bite marks. Nothing. His hands flew across his torso, arms, chest, face, anything to confirm he was still alive. When he found nothing wrong, he released a shaky sigh of relief. 

But then he noticed something else.

His clothes felt... different.

He looked down and nearly choked. His varsity jacket, flannel, and jeans— gone. In their place was a bright, bold red vinyl leather jacket, the black vinyl trim outlining the exaggerated lapels. Matching red slim-cut pants clung to his legs, paired with crisp white socks and black penny loafers. He pushed up the sleeves of his jacket, wondering where the hell he was.

"Michael?" you said suddenly, appearing next to him. He jumped back. You were dressed differently too— quite strikingly, he had to admit. A bright blue denim leopard print set clung to your frame, the jacket left open to reveal a red tank top beneath. A red belt cinched to your waist over matching capri pants, and red pointed-toe pumps clicked softly against the ground. Your red coin earrings shimmered beneath the streetlamp.

"Y/N?! What did you do?" Michael sputtered

You stared at him like he was the crazy one, scrunching your face. "What are you talking about? I didn't do anything to you! If anything, you're the one trying to scare me with all these scary ass stories you've been making up on the way back to my apartment!"

Michael opened his mouth to argue—

But then he head it. 

A low, pained groan.

He froze.

"Do you hear that?" he whispered.

"Hear what?!" you fussed, already annoyed.

The groaning persists, louder this time.

Michael identifies the sound quickly. "That! That noise, c'mon Y/N, I know you can hear that."

"Michael, these Halloween pranks are getting out of hand now—"

The groaning came again, even louder. Your eyes widened, not just because you heard it, but because you could now see exactly where the sound was coming from: behind Michael's shoulder. 

"Um.. Michael.."

Michael watched your expression shift and slowly turned around.

A crowd of zombies, multiple zombies of every ghoul shuffled down the alley toward you both. Their feet dragged across the slick asphalt in slow, dreadful rhythms.

Eyeballs were dangling out of sockets, some rolling across the street. Bones cracked and ground together with every step. One zombie's arm fell off entirely, but instead of retrieving it, the skeletal hand scuttled forward on its own, crawling towards the two of you.

Moving to the center of the alley, you and Michael clutched each other instantly, eyes wide. At every turn, more of the corpses crept closer, hemming you in. Both your hearts pounded in sync, breaths quickening with rising terror as the undead began to crowd around.

As they closed in, Michael instinctively pushed you behind him to shield you. But you turned, putting him behind you to shield him. Soon, you were back-to-back, both scanning wildly for an escape that didn't exist.

A familiar chord, those uncanny, ominous strings filled the dark gloomy air and echoed through the alley. Michael recognized it instantly. It was the same score from the Vincent Price movie they just went to go see.

"Y/N..." he whispered.

No answer.

The music swelled as the zombies reached for him, their bones cracking as he shoved their arms away.

"Y/N..." Michael said again, louder this time.

The score built gradually, rising toward a chilling crescendo. Michael's eyes darted around in panic. When he finally turned, his gaze slowly fell on you.

The warmth you carried was gone.

You stood as a gaunt corpse, your eyes hollow, cheeks sunken, clothes tattered and decaying. Even your heels were stained, scuffed, ruined. The entire horde of zombies gathered behind you with slacked jaws and glints of hungry intent.

A sneaky, menacing grin spread across your face. "Bet you're scared now, huh?"

Michael's eyes practically bulged out of his head. He backpedaled so fast his black penny loafers clicked frantically against the pavement before he spun and sprinted away from you and your motley crew.

You tilted your head, smirking darkly, your rotten grin widening as your gaze tracked his fleeing footsteps. 

"Let's get em."

Michael could hear the loud, spooky laughter behind him as he ran. Overpowering it all, a dark voice echoed.

"Darkness falls across the land. The midnight hour is close at hand..."

He panted, each step of his black penny loafers clicking against the pavement like a ticking clock. He passed by the now-empty cemetery by the movie theater, the faint scent of decay in the air.

"Creatures crawl in search of blood to terrorize y'all's neighborhood."

He veered sharply left, rounding the corner to find himself back on the Howard University campus, the brick walls decorated with dust and cobwebs all over. Glancing over his shoulder, his stomach dropped. You were chasing him, the other zombies trailing in your wake. He sprinted across the Quad.

"And whosever shall be found, without the soul for getting down, must stand and face the Hounds of Hell and rot inside a corpse's shell."

He looked around until he spotted Lance and darted over for help him, grabbing him by the shoulder to turn him around, but it was too late. Zombified Lance grinned at him daringly with missing teeth, and Michael recoiled, stumbling backward. He nearly tripped over a pothole, the lid scraping the cemented gravel, and a corpsed Janelle crawled up from the swampy underground, laughing wickedly as she reached for him. Michael quickly weaved to dodge her grasp, keeping his pace.

"The foulest stench is in the air. The funk of fourth thousand years and grizzly ghouls from every tomb are closing in to seal your doom."

Michael glanced back to see if he lost them, only to find both Lance and Janelle right behind you. You're gaining up on him now. Desperation surged through him as he ran toward the only familiar building on this campus, your dorm building. He flung the door open and slammed it shut, pressing his back against it to catch his breath.

"And though you fight to stay alive..."

The door rattled violently, and your hand punched through the wood above his head. Reflexively, he ducked, but another hole appeared, this time by the doorknob, where it had been torn from its frame. Michael's eyes caught the bench beside the door— a bench he's sat on countless times waiting for you to come downstairs over the past year. Acting quickly, he shoved it against the weakened entrance. It barely slowed you. You bashed your head through the door, shaking off the splinters and shoved the bench aside. Your ghoul-filled goons swarmed in behind you, forcing the door further open.

"Your body starts to shiver..."

Michael's gaze locked onto your soulless eyes as you inched closer. He scrambled backward through a doorway he hadn't even noticed was open, groaning filling the space and raising the hairs on the back of his neck. He fell onto the dusty couch with a thud.

"For no mere moral can resist..."

You leaned closer as Michael tried to scoot back, realizing there was nowhere left to run. You could hear his rapid heartbeat pulsing against his ribcage.

"The evil of the THRILLER."

You dragged your feet closer. Michael gripped the edge of the couch like a lifeline, staring at you with wide, terrified eyes, his breath shallow and uneven.

The zombies trickled in the room one by one until the room was filled in, crowding around the couch.

Michael pressed back further into the cushions, cornered. 

You leaned down, your face mere inches from his. A slow sinister smirk curled across your lips as you whispered, echoing Vincent's sinister tone. 

"Can you dig it?"

Your hand reached out toward his shoulder.

Michael's eyes shut tight as a scream tore from his throat, his body jerking upward.

When he opened them, reality had shifted. You were back in your black color-blocked turtleneck and mini skirt, your hand casually resting on his shoulder.

"What's the problem?" You smiled innocently.

Michael blinked, slightly disoriented, realizing he was in your dorm room. Panting, he tried to steady himself.

"What's time is it?" he asked.

"It's 11:45." you said, chuckling softly. "You crashed as soon as we got back from the ice cream parlor after the movies. You still wanna go to the homecoming party at the Alpha House?"

He nodded slowly, regaining his bearing as reality settled in. You smiled, warmth returning to your expression. 

"Alright. C'mon, let's head on over there." you help him up, letting him pull you into a hug. He returned it, relief washing over him as he realized it was all a dream. 

You held him for a moment before breaking it gently and guiding him toward the door.

On the way out, you turned over your shoulder to check your reflection in the full-length mirror. Your fangs peeked out as you smiled and winked at your own reflection before shutting the door behind you.

A faint echo of Vincent Price's voice drifted through the background, low and wicked. "Happy Halloween." 

He chuckled evilly.

[mionellsparlockinevier-mj]

Michael Jackson Masterlist:

(Please note that everything I write is for pleasure, so there may be inaccuracies in timeline/characters)

Series:

A Love That's For All Time - (complete):

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

Loving You (that's what I wanna do) - (complete):

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Is It Worth The Giving? Is It Worth The Try? - (complete):

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

You're The One That Makes Me Strong - (complete):

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Oneshots:

A Heart That Needs Your Love

How Can I Stop Losing You?

[starlightz4mj-deactivated202605]

Something Is Not Right With Me

Summary: Since his bloodstained encounter one fall evening, Michael has been wrapped in an ever-growing shroud of peculiar behavior. When he runs out of gas on your date night, stranding you in the inky stillness of nowhere, the full moon slips out of hiding, unveiling secrets that flip the evening from a simple fail to a shocking fright...

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Era: Thriller

Setting: Indiana. Autumn of 1957

Category & Warnings: horror, mentions of blood, smut (mild), masterbation (m! receiving)

Word count: 4,522

Note: This oneshot is a continuation of the film at the beginning of Thriller. Both reader and Michael are 18. Re-edited to tweak some things and to correct the em-dashes. Anywho, enjoy! :)

Something is not right with me!

How was I supposed to know?

. . . 

Something is not right with me! 

Tryin’ not to let it show!

The white Chevrolet halts to a stop as the engine turns off, surrounding the young couple with the mysterious sounds of the night. A frigid breeze sweeps through the heavy layer of oak trees laying on each side of the winding road. The fissle of it dances in your ears, brushing against the skin of your sleeveless arms and sending a chill up your body.

The constant chirp of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl, symphonies that otherwise would be relaxing, were the only sounds that could be heard in the still, quiet of the woods—a daunting reminder of being stuck in the middle of nowhere. Though slightly anxious at the gloomy atmosphere, your worry eases by the reminder of the handsome and caring boy you have by your side.

Since you transferred schools last spring during your junior year, you had been crushing hard on Michael, but never had the courage to make any advances. Nearly every girl in school swooned over him—the captain of the football team—his popularity and good looks were irresistible. Between you both in some of the few classes you shared, there was the occasional, friendly conversation over assignments or the fleeting exchange of a greeting in the hallway.

You reminisce over the scent of oranges, cinnamon and cedar always swirling around him, intoxicatingly sweet yet manly. And though your discussions flowed nicely, it was not enough to convince you of the possibility of him ever having any feelings for you. And with that belief, you remained merely another admirer amongst the rest on campus. What you didn’t know was that Michael had been interested in you as well. That is, until the day he approached you at your locker. 

“Hey, I wanted to let you know that I really like talkin’ to ya, and I’ve thought you were beautiful since the first day I saw you sittin’ in Mrs. Kelly’s class. I was wonderin’ if maybe you and I could go out sometime? How’s this Friday?” His accent drawls out smoothly from his supple lips, kind eyes staring intently into yours. He stood there, nearly towering over you, red varsity jacket fitted attractively over his broad shoulders and hands tucked casually into his jean pockets as he waited for your response. Despite his collected demeanor, he was a ball of nerves internally, fearing you would reject him.

Stunned at the request, you simply gaped for a minute that dragged on in awkward silence, entirely surprised and flattered that he approached you for a date. And how could you resist that? Finally collecting yourself, you giddily accepted the arrangement, anticipating how you would spend the evening with him. It had been nearly six months since that fateful day, and you and Michael have been going strong ever since.

Tonight, you both had agreed to go to the showing of Creature From The Black Lagoon at a drive-in theater the next town over, but he had been warning for the past 10 minutes that the tank would likely be empty before you could make it there. Seeing as the car’s not moving anymore, it seems it was no mere jest.

“Honestly, we’re out of gas!” Micahel exclaims with a charming chuckle as he takes in the inquisitive look on your face. 

“So, what are we gonna do now?” The honeyed lilt in your voice gave clear indication to Michael of what you were hinting at. Though the dense and lofty woods of Lake county were somewhat unsettling this time of evening, there was still a peaceful solitude it offered that could be used to both of your advantage. You and Michael had strictly been keeping things at first base, scandalous makeout sessions behind school bleachers and in the back of his car, but never anything past the waist.

An arched brow curled up in amusement with a slight smirk resting on his lips, you were under the impression that you both were on the same page about what would take place next… Surprisingly, and much to your disappointment, you instead find the two of you traveling on foot, trying to locate the gas station about 2 miles away from where Michael had left his car.

As you continued your stride, there was a comfortable silence that rested between you two, leaving Michael deep in questioning thought. He was sure that he filled the tank the day before this outing. Or, maybe it was three days ago? Recently, Michael found himself not being able to remember things with certainty. In fact, he’s been experiencing an array of bizarre occurrences for a while now.

It all seemed to start a few weeks ago on that fishing trip he took with his grandfather to Fox Lake. A rare and special occasion, they traveled for miles to the only one in all the state of Indiana that was welcome to black folks for vacationing. Staying out on the water for hours, they took in the vibrant hues of the autumn leaves resting gently against the fading horizon, sharing stories and memories to make themselves merry.

Night had nearly fallen by the time they headed back to shore with their catch of the day when a sudden and violent shaking amongst the bushes alerted them to caution. In an instant, Michael yelped at the sharp claws of a bobcat etching into his hand as it hopped out from hiding and swiftly disappeared back into the thicket just as rapidly as it emerged, but not before he could make out the bright, neon gleam of its yellow tinted iris. The bucket of fish tumbles from the clutch of his fingers.

“Michael! You okay, boy? Lemme look at it.” 

Grandpa Sam rushes over to his side, cradling his bloodied hand to inspect it. 

“Yeah, I’m fine ‘pa. It got me good, though.” With a wince and a slight hiss from the sting, Michael wraps a cloth tightly around the deep gash to stop the bleeding. A bumpy ride back home in the old pickup truck they came in and his mother worriedly fussing over the wound as she tended to it, Michael soon finds himself easily diving into the comfort of his bed and quickly taken by sleep. Though, it remains anything but a good rest.

First came the nightmare. Astral visions painted with crimson red, haunted by ghastly screams and wild, hideous growls. A demon or some beastly creature with an unruly coat and glowing orbs, bounding through the midwestern woodlands, in a pursuit for carnage. And the moon, full and bright, beaming in an inky and starless sky. Its glow illuminates from above, pouring down over Michael. In the waking world, this feeling would gently bathe over the skin, as faint as a phantom.

But here, it was simmering against Michael’s body, gradually getting hotter and hotter until an unyielding, searing burn gnawed at his flesh. A scorch abruptly set off inside him, as if lava had been directly injected into his veins before he found himself startled awake by his own anguished shout, body and sheets alike drenched in sweat, and panting desperately to calm the racing within his ribcage.

“I heard you screaming. Is everything alright?” His mother inquires with urgency as she barges through the door. Now more collected after a few deep breaths, Michael straightens up, directing his attention to her. 

“I just had a nightmare is all. Don’t worry. I’m alright.” Relieved to hear that nothing serious happened, she lightly instructs him to get ready for school as she finishes making breakfast before exiting the room. As he goes to stand up, the gauze that was secured around the scratches slips from his hand and to his astonishment, he's staring at a surface unblemished. 

Wide eyed and in disbelief, he flips his hand from front to back, flexing the joints experimentally, as if that would make the mark or its signifying twinge of soreness reappear. Alas, it did not and with it, he began to feel the fraying of his sanity. Ever since that night, his sleep has been disturbed by nightmares. Precisely, the same exact one over and over again.

Then came the hunger. Now, Michael has always been on the smaller side, possessing a lithe frame that most wouldn’t expect to be suitable for football, but strangely, he was one of the best players at Shortridge High. A standard 3 meals a day, prepared by the loving and kind hands of his mother, with regular exercise and training were usually enough to keep him in tip top shape for his games. 

But lately, those meals have done little to satisfy his growing appetite. His days have been filled with ravenous engorge. Popcorn bags, mini orange juice cartons and plenty of burger wrappers from Lou’s Diner up the road, all piled high in the corner of his room. And when it came dinner time, whatever protein that’s been made goes on his plate in surplus, priorly requesting of his mother to make extra.

“Michael sweetie, slow down! You don’t want to give yourself a stomach ache.” Kathrine gawked in shock and bewilderment at her son devouring the slab of steak as if he were some starved animal indulging in its first meal in months. Momentarily, he’s snapped out of his frenzied feast, awkwardly gazing up at her.

“I’m sorry, Mother. You know how much I love your cooking,” an embarrassed smile of grease-stained lips and meat-stuck teeth accompanied by a subtle moment of silence, and he’s back to eating the second steak on his plate with a calmer restraint.

As a teenage boy, of course your hormones are all over the place. Michael, understanding this, made an extra effort to keep his emotions in check and save that energy for the field where he could release it in a productive way. Sex had been something that Michael tuned out relatively well, simply because he hadn’t actually romantically pursued anyone. That is, until he started going out with you.

Adamant about being a gentleman, he made it clear that he only wanted to fully engage with you when the time was right, and so far he’s miraculously managed to abstain. But ever since that incident at the lake, he’s found himself in constant battle with these carnal desires.

Besides the nightmares, his sleep often was comprised of the vivid and lewd images of you and him. Bodies joined together, gyrating and slick with passion, your wanton cries and desperate calls of his name echoed alluringly within his mind. Consuming and greedy caresses to intimate, fleshy parts flashed enticingly behind his eyelids like a view-master reel, and he’d awaken to briefs damp with his emission, sensitive and still not satiated, craving for the real thing.

Behind the locked door of the bathroom, the recollection of your titillating noises fueled the rapid pace of his fist against himself while his other pressed firmly to his mouth, muffling the pleasured groans that spilled from his lips. Though he made an earnest effort to keep these lustful urges at bay, it was starting to become more tempting to give in.

And then there was his anger. Uncommon and newly emerged, he’d been having an increasingly difficult time grappling with it.

“Mike, chill out man! The guy didn’t mean it!” Max and Chris, Michael’s teammates and friends since grade school, attempt to dislodge his firm grip from the collar of the unnamed kid who’s clearly shaken from the ferocious glare Michael holds. A forceful bump into Michael, being too deeply immersed in the story another classmate was recounting, landed him in this current predicament.

As he gasps from the air being knocked from his lungs after being slammed against the lockers, the handle digging painfully into his spine, and gazing back into the chilling, animalistic glare of his assaulter, one that clearly screamed of intense rage and intent to murder, he wishes he would’ve been paying attention before. After what felt like an eternity, Michael breaks his look away for a brief glance in the direction of his friends, reluctantly releasing hold of his polo shirt.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going next time,” a gruff warning is cast in the quaking boy’s direction as Michael storms out of the locker room. And though his thoughts were veiled with an underlying puzzlement as to why he reacted so explosively, he was still seething too much to even fully acknowledge it.

“What the hell’s the matter with him?” 

All three boys stand and stare dumbfounded as the blue door slams behind Michael with a resounding thud. As he paces across the field, his rage riddled mind settles deep in ponderment, unable to shake the feeling that something terrible was happening to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” gently grabbing hold of his arm and offering your sincere apology, Michael focuses his line of sight on you before stopping and fully turning towards your direction. His voice cuts through the brief pause he takes.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?” You reply softly, taking in his quiet determination.

“You know I like you, don’t you?” 

“Yes.” A smile and endearing eyes focused on him, you hold on to every word with adoration.

“And I hope you like me, the way I like you.” 

“Yes.”

“I was wonderin’ if… you would be my girl?” During these months of courting as you both grew closer and closer, Michael's feelings had grown much fonder for you. He decided it was the right moment to take the next step in this relationship. 

“Oh, Michael…” you two share a warm and tight embrace, pulling apart for Michael to slip a silver promise ring onto your finger.

“It’s beautiful!” Taking in the intricate, fine details of petaled vines spiraling toward the center to a rose with a sapphire gem resting delicately in the middle of it, you feel elated that your connection had finally developed into something deeper. 

“Now, it’s official.” Michael chimes with a satisfied grin and voice filled with pride. Though in an instant, his expression turns grim.

“I have somethin’ I wanna tell ya.”

“Yes, Michael?” Staring quizzically, confused at the sudden shift of mood, you wait for him to continue.

“I’m not like other guys…” Michael's voice tinges with foreboding, contemplating if he should come clean about the strange happenings he’s been plagued with since the lake, or if he should just drop it and pretend that they don’t exist. Perhaps, you not knowing would be best for both of you. Somehow, they might disappear on their own, leaving their revelation to you futile in the end, or maybe even scaring you off, ruining what you both have.

“Of course not! That’s why I love you,” your fervent declaration pulls at his heart, anchoring the resolution he has to share these secrets with you. Still, he finds himself troubled on how to phrase it.

“No, I mean I’m different.”

“What are you talking about?” Uttering in perplexity, you begin to worry about what could possibly be the cause of the cryptic nature of Michael’s words. But before he can continue, a yelp filled with agony cracks abruptly in the space between you. Michael crouches down to the ground, doubling over as the same inferno that’s been haunting his dreams starts to set him ablaze from within.

And as he feels a terrifying shift, as if being ripped away from himself and replaced with something untamed and vicious, he is certain that the events over these past weeks are reaching a cataclysmic peak. Whatever this is, he senses if you stay near him any longer, it will have dire consequences.

“Are you alright?!” You go to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but before you even take the first step, Michael’s head whips up, startling you with the horrifying sight of citrine eyes and razor-sharp teeth.

“GO AWAY!” 

Frozen in fear, your feet plant firmly to the ground as the petrifying scene unfolds in front of you. Blood curdling screams reach your ears, soon recognized to be your own, tearing out of your throat as you watch Michael transform into something morbid and monstrous. The delicate structure of his face morphs horridly, distorting into a grotesque visage of bulging contours and wiry whiskers. His once smooth skin is replaced by coarse, silver fur and the unmistakable snap of contorting bones rings through the air as his features expand and bloodied claws push through the tips of his fingers. 

His protruding maw hangs open threateningly, lined with jagged fangs and emitting unearthly snarls that penetrate the night like a raging hellhound. Though on the contrary, his resemblance is akin to a wild cat as opposed to that of a canine. Finally regaining your senses, your legs break into a sprint towards the forest, hoping to escape the beast that was once your boyfriend in the shadowy vastness of it.

Soles pounding against the leaf-layered ground, the branches you push through tear at the purple skirt of your dress and scratch you in various places, but spiked on adrenaline and fear, you hardly notice. The full moon, backdropped by rolling, wispy clouds, is the only light offered in the ever increasing darkness of the woods as you descend deeper and deeper, getting lost in them. As its rays cast over the trees, creating silhouettes against the forest floor that waver in peculiar and unsettling ways, your pulse hammers in your ears as you find yourself failing to grasp what's real and what’s not.

Your desperate flight carries on as a ghostly howl sounds off not far behind you, spurring you to move faster to seek coverage. Once you feel you’ve reached a safe distance, you quickly take hiding behind the trunk of a towering oak, using this as an opportunity to regain your breath. 

Fingers gripping and back pressed to the rough bark, it grounds you as you adjust to the sudden calm that envelops your dim surroundings. The hush of the space brings an uneasy feeling of suspense as you notice the muffled stomps of the creature have vanished entirely.

“Ah!” You shriek as the horrendous brute leaps out from above, pouncing and knocking you to the bed of withered leaves beneath. Hovering and caging you in, it lowers until it's at eye length with you and the huff of its breath fans hotly over your face. And as it lets out a loud bellow, extended claws baring menacingly, your demise seems sealed as imminent.

With clenched eyes and pummeling heart, you brace yourself for the impact of them shredding through your flesh. But a moment passed, yet again, where everything is still. And you wonder, is this truly death? Being so caught up on the uncompromising actuality of it, that you feel nothing at all? 

Supposing the universe heard your despairing rumination to make reason of it, you feel the definite press of claws over the left side of your chest, simply resting as if to feel the rhythm there. Cautiously you pry your eyes open, intently taking in the slitted, inhuman orbs piercing through your own.

But oddly, behind them lies no malice. Instead, the tender and musing gaze of your used-to-be lover holds you captive as loud, rumbly chuffs vibrate affectionately against your form. And in this exchange between you, juxtaposing with danger and serenity, you feel as if somewhere far beyond this grisly countenance, he is reaching out to you.

“M-Michael? Are you there? Is it you?” Gingerly, your fingers inch closer and closer until they finally press flush to the cheek of this cat-like beast, silver mane tickling your skin. It reciprocates, overlapping its warm paw over the place your hand rests and letting out a series of soft, chittering purrs. Completely ensnared to each other in this moment, your resistance and distress gradually dissipate until you are only left with a deep yearning to understand this mystifying oddity before you, lost in the moonlit reflection of your eyes.

But, you are given no time as within them, gray clouds roll over, gathering to enshroud the moon, causing the creature to feel an unsteady shift inside of itself. Yowling in affliction, its paw tears away from your hand, claws catching the skin and drawing a scream from you once again with alarm restored. Somehow, you both manage to scurry from each other- you in terror and the nonhuman thing in pain.

And as you dash back into a run in the direction from whence you came, the open gash of your hand leaving a trail of blood in your path, you hear the indistinguishable shout of your boyfriend through the forest that is now almost pitch black as the moon has completely taken cover.

“Wait! Please, come back!” Wondering if your mind is playing tricks on you, you attempt to halt the progression of your steps and turn to see if Michael is really there. You are unable to confirm as you miss sight of the edge of a rock jutting out from the earth, foot seized by it as you tumble to the ground, bumping your head, and becoming consumed by a world of darkness.

Eyelids snapping open, you take in the familiar setting. Your bedroom of soft hues and ruffled accents is lightly aglow with the slivers of morning sky that seeps through the undulating curtains of your window—slightly ajar and inviting the nippy, autumn air into the space. Lifting the pink comforter from yourself and expecting to see the tattered dress from last night, you are surprised to find your form clad in your usual attire of a nylon nightgown. You adjust yourself, sitting up straight to fully take in where you are. How did you get here? 

You mull over internally for some explanation. To pinpoint a cause on what you suppose you only could have conjured up in your wildest imagination. Maybe it was stress from the upcoming end-of-semester exams you have, or that off-tasting slice of pie you ate the previous day. Lost in the introspection of your mind, you almost miss the bright ringing of the telephone on your bedside table. With a self-soothing sigh, you extend your hand to the receiver when the dazzle of a silver band graced with a sapphire stone leaves you shell-shocked, ice freezing over your bones.

The ringer thrums one final time before stopping as you fail to answer the call. Feeling as if your mind has stopped functioning while simultaneously being in overdrive, the phone sounds off again. After the third toll, you yank the receiver to your ear, muttering into the transmitter after a beat.

“...Hello?” You're gifted with nothing but the quiet breathing of whoever’s on the other side of the line, and you have a creeping suspicion to who it might be.

“...Michael?” The name drifts out in a low whisper. You then hear a tentative exhale being taken. “Yeah. It’s me.”

An abnormal feeling rests in the pit of your stomach at the sound of his voice, taken aback by the normality of it as your memory flashes back to the possessed and hellish tones that were produced in the woods. His question breaks through the thought. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

“I remember everything.” The statement falls from your lips with clarity and no hesitation.

“...Is it okay if we talk in person?” He requests nervously with an obvious unease in his words.

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Your chest pangs with apprehension, thoughts varying between the fear you felt last night and your desire to know the unknown. You’re not sure which one outweighs the other yet.

“Baby, please. I’m begging you. Give me a chance to explain. I promise you’ll be safe. I just need you to understand.” He pleads desperately on the other side of the phone, but you're still not sure if you are willing to take that risk.

“How can you promise me that? My hand, Michael. Do you even know what you did?” The incredulity in your voice aches Michael deeply as he rakes through his brain, attempting to spot any glimpses of what took place. But he can only recall the excruciating burn and the pale moonlight; anything else remains hazy.

“I can’t remember everyth-” 

“You can’t remember? How is that supposed to reassure me?” You cut his words short with trepidation rushing through your lips. 

“I don’t know! I can’t remember! I don’t know what I was. I’m not even sure I know what I am anymore. But whatever happened, you have to know that I am so sorry, and that I would never, ever do anything to intentionally hurt you. I-I need you to hear me out. Please. Baby, it’s me. It’s Michael… Can you just trust me?” The quiver and break of his voice he tries his best to hold in reaches your ears. You feel the strain on your soul as you hear him clearly hurting and confused. Though your skeptical concern still persists, you can’t bear the thought of him dealing with this torment alone.

“...Okay. But I’ll only do it if we go somewhere public.” Your stalled yet willing answer gives Michael a sense of hope and relief. Even though he’s slightly disappointed, he understands your wary disposition. Therefore, he quickly casts the feeling aside, mustering up the best response he can.

“Of course, of course. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. I’m headin’ over right now, so be ready in 15 minutes… I love you.”

“I love you too, Michael.” Albeit a small murmuring, you declare it with absolute devotion, soothing his underlying doubt that you no longer felt the same. The conversation ends by the small clack of the receiver against the switch hook, leaving you to simply settle into the stillness of your room, lost in raking over the events of the night before. Panic faintly remains, but you are mostly filled with curious wonder. As you marinate in the mixed sensations and emotions of that unnatural interaction, you think back to the sentimental moment the two of you shared on the earthy ground.

It somewhat subdues the anxiety and confliction you feel as you are reminded of the gentleness you were handled with. Despite the frightening exterior, you can still feel the lingering warmth of its benign touch and the adoring expression it held towards you. Michael’s struggle between beast and man was unequivocal, but you were certain that your affection for him mirrored the same. And though you were still having trouble wrapping your head around the reality of this situation, you were determined to hold the fortitude needed to navigate through it together.

With a sudden shiver, pulling you away from your inner dwellings, a particularly frigid gust of wind blows through your open window. Rising slowly, you shuffle across the room to pull it shut. Placing both palms on the sash, you seal the gap from letting in anymore of the biting air from outside. But as you look down, you are dismayed to see that the wound on your right hand is nowhere to be found.

Note: Thank you for reading and I hope it was enjoyable :) credits to @cafekitsune and @we-die-like-fools for the dividers.

mentions: @mjfavgirlie2006 @mjsgirlie04 @moonwalkerdiana

© All Rights Reserved

[starlightz4mj-deactivated202605]

Something Is Not Right With Me

Summary: Since his bloodstained encounter one fall evening, Michael has been wrapped in an ever-growing shroud of peculiar behavior. When he runs out of gas on your date night, stranding you in the inky stillness of nowhere, the full moon slips out of hiding, unveiling secrets that flip the evening from a simple fail to a shocking fright...

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Era: Thriller

Setting: Indiana. Autumn of 1957

Category & Warnings: horror, mentions of blood, smut (mild), masterbation (m! receiving)

Word count: 4,522

Note: This oneshot is a continuation of the film at the beginning of Thriller. Both reader and Michael are 18. Re-edited to tweak some things and to correct the em-dashes. Anywho, enjoy! :)

Something is not right with me!

How was I supposed to know?

. . . 

Something is not right with me! 

Tryin’ not to let it show!

The white Chevrolet halts to a stop as the engine turns off, surrounding the young couple with the mysterious sounds of the night. A frigid breeze sweeps through the heavy layer of oak trees laying on each side of the winding road. The fissle of it dances in your ears, brushing against the skin of your sleeveless arms and sending a chill up your body.

The constant chirp of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl, symphonies that otherwise would be relaxing, were the only sounds that could be heard in the still, quiet of the woods—a daunting reminder of being stuck in the middle of nowhere. Though slightly anxious at the gloomy atmosphere, your worry eases by the reminder of the handsome and caring boy you have by your side.

Since you transferred schools last spring during your junior year, you had been crushing hard on Michael, but never had the courage to make any advances. Nearly every girl in school swooned over him—the captain of the football team—his popularity and good looks were irresistible. Between you both in some of the few classes you shared, there was the occasional, friendly conversation over assignments or the fleeting exchange of a greeting in the hallway.

You reminisce over the scent of oranges, cinnamon and cedar always swirling around him, intoxicatingly sweet yet manly. And though your discussions flowed nicely, it was not enough to convince you of the possibility of him ever having any feelings for you. And with that belief, you remained merely another admirer amongst the rest on campus. What you didn’t know was that Michael had been interested in you as well. That is, until the day he approached you at your locker. 

“Hey, I wanted to let you know that I really like talkin’ to ya, and I’ve thought you were beautiful since the first day I saw you sittin’ in Mrs. Kelly’s class. I was wonderin’ if maybe you and I could go out sometime? How’s this Friday?” His accent drawls out smoothly from his supple lips, kind eyes staring intently into yours. He stood there, nearly towering over you, red varsity jacket fitted attractively over his broad shoulders and hands tucked casually into his jean pockets as he waited for your response. Despite his collected demeanor, he was a ball of nerves internally, fearing you would reject him.

Stunned at the request, you simply gaped for a minute that dragged on in awkward silence, entirely surprised and flattered that he approached you for a date. And how could you resist that? Finally collecting yourself, you giddily accepted the arrangement, anticipating how you would spend the evening with him. It had been nearly six months since that fateful day, and you and Michael have been going strong ever since.

Tonight, you both had agreed to go to the showing of Creature From The Black Lagoon at a drive-in theater the next town over, but he had been warning for the past 10 minutes that the tank would likely be empty before you could make it there. Seeing as the car’s not moving anymore, it seems it was no mere jest.

“Honestly, we’re out of gas!” Micahel exclaims with a charming chuckle as he takes in the inquisitive look on your face. 

“So, what are we gonna do now?” The honeyed lilt in your voice gave clear indication to Michael of what you were hinting at. Though the dense and lofty woods of Lake county were somewhat unsettling this time of evening, there was still a peaceful solitude it offered that could be used to both of your advantage. You and Michael had strictly been keeping things at first base, scandalous makeout sessions behind school bleachers and in the back of his car, but never anything past the waist.

An arched brow curled up in amusement with a slight smirk resting on his lips, you were under the impression that you both were on the same page about what would take place next… Surprisingly, and much to your disappointment, you instead find the two of you traveling on foot, trying to locate the gas station about 2 miles away from where Michael had left his car.

As you continued your stride, there was a comfortable silence that rested between you two, leaving Michael deep in questioning thought. He was sure that he filled the tank the day before this outing. Or, maybe it was three days ago? Recently, Michael found himself not being able to remember things with certainty. In fact, he’s been experiencing an array of bizarre occurrences for a while now.

It all seemed to start a few weeks ago on that fishing trip he took with his grandfather to Fox Lake. A rare and special occasion, they traveled for miles to the only one in all the state of Indiana that was welcome to black folks for vacationing. Staying out on the water for hours, they took in the vibrant hues of the autumn leaves resting gently against the fading horizon, sharing stories and memories to make themselves merry.

Night had nearly fallen by the time they headed back to shore with their catch of the day when a sudden and violent shaking amongst the bushes alerted them to caution. In an instant, Michael yelped at the sharp claws of a bobcat etching into his hand as it hopped out from hiding and swiftly disappeared back into the thicket just as rapidly as it emerged, but not before he could make out the bright, neon gleam of its yellow tinted iris. The bucket of fish tumbles from the clutch of his fingers.

“Michael! You okay, boy? Lemme look at it.” 

Grandpa Sam rushes over to his side, cradling his bloodied hand to inspect it. 

“Yeah, I’m fine ‘pa. It got me good, though.” With a wince and a slight hiss from the sting, Michael wraps a cloth tightly around the deep gash to stop the bleeding. A bumpy ride back home in the old pickup truck they came in and his mother worriedly fussing over the wound as she tended to it, Michael soon finds himself easily diving into the comfort of his bed and quickly taken by sleep. Though, it remains anything but a good rest.

First came the nightmare. Astral visions painted with crimson red, haunted by ghastly screams and wild, hideous growls. A demon or some beastly creature with an unruly coat and glowing orbs, bounding through the midwestern woodlands, in a pursuit for carnage. And the moon, full and bright, beaming in an inky and starless sky. Its glow illuminates from above, pouring down over Michael. In the waking world, this feeling would gently bathe over the skin, as faint as a phantom.

But here, it was simmering against Michael’s body, gradually getting hotter and hotter until an unyielding, searing burn gnawed at his flesh. A scorch abruptly set off inside him, as if lava had been directly injected into his veins before he found himself startled awake by his own anguished shout, body and sheets alike drenched in sweat, and panting desperately to calm the racing within his ribcage.

“I heard you screaming. Is everything alright?” His mother inquires with urgency as she barges through the door. Now more collected after a few deep breaths, Michael straightens up, directing his attention to her. 

“I just had a nightmare is all. Don’t worry. I’m alright.” Relieved to hear that nothing serious happened, she lightly instructs him to get ready for school as she finishes making breakfast before exiting the room. As he goes to stand up, the gauze that was secured around the scratches slips from his hand and to his astonishment, he's staring at a surface unblemished. 

Wide eyed and in disbelief, he flips his hand from front to back, flexing the joints experimentally, as if that would make the mark or its signifying twinge of soreness reappear. Alas, it did not and with it, he began to feel the fraying of his sanity. Ever since that night, his sleep has been disturbed by nightmares. Precisely, the same exact one over and over again.

Then came the hunger. Now, Michael has always been on the smaller side, possessing a lithe frame that most wouldn’t expect to be suitable for football, but strangely, he was one of the best players at Shortridge High. A standard 3 meals a day, prepared by the loving and kind hands of his mother, with regular exercise and training were usually enough to keep him in tip top shape for his games. 

But lately, those meals have done little to satisfy his growing appetite. His days have been filled with ravenous engorge. Popcorn bags, mini orange juice cartons and plenty of burger wrappers from Lou’s Diner up the road, all piled high in the corner of his room. And when it came dinner time, whatever protein that’s been made goes on his plate in surplus, priorly requesting of his mother to make extra.

“Michael sweetie, slow down! You don’t want to give yourself a stomach ache.” Kathrine gawked in shock and bewilderment at her son devouring the slab of steak as if he were some starved animal indulging in its first meal in months. Momentarily, he’s snapped out of his frenzied feast, awkwardly gazing up at her.

“I’m sorry, Mother. You know how much I love your cooking,” an embarrassed smile of grease-stained lips and meat-stuck teeth accompanied by a subtle moment of silence, and he’s back to eating the second steak on his plate with a calmer restraint.

As a teenage boy, of course your hormones are all over the place. Michael, understanding this, made an extra effort to keep his emotions in check and save that energy for the field where he could release it in a productive way. Sex had been something that Michael tuned out relatively well, simply because he hadn’t actually romantically pursued anyone. That is, until he started going out with you.

Adamant about being a gentleman, he made it clear that he only wanted to fully engage with you when the time was right, and so far he’s miraculously managed to abstain. But ever since that incident at the lake, he’s found himself in constant battle with these carnal desires.

Besides the nightmares, his sleep often was comprised of the vivid and lewd images of you and him. Bodies joined together, gyrating and slick with passion, your wanton cries and desperate calls of his name echoed alluringly within his mind. Consuming and greedy caresses to intimate, fleshy parts flashed enticingly behind his eyelids like a view-master reel, and he’d awaken to briefs damp with his emission, sensitive and still not satiated, craving for the real thing.

Behind the locked door of the bathroom, the recollection of your titillating noises fueled the rapid pace of his fist against himself while his other pressed firmly to his mouth, muffling the pleasured groans that spilled from his lips. Though he made an earnest effort to keep these lustful urges at bay, it was starting to become more tempting to give in.

And then there was his anger. Uncommon and newly emerged, he’d been having an increasingly difficult time grappling with it.

“Mike, chill out man! The guy didn’t mean it!” Max and Chris, Michael’s teammates and friends since grade school, attempt to dislodge his firm grip from the collar of the unnamed kid who’s clearly shaken from the ferocious glare Michael holds. A forceful bump into Michael, being too deeply immersed in the story another classmate was recounting, landed him in this current predicament.

As he gasps from the air being knocked from his lungs after being slammed against the lockers, the handle digging painfully into his spine, and gazing back into the chilling, animalistic glare of his assaulter, one that clearly screamed of intense rage and intent to murder, he wishes he would’ve been paying attention before. After what felt like an eternity, Michael breaks his look away for a brief glance in the direction of his friends, reluctantly releasing hold of his polo shirt.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going next time,” a gruff warning is cast in the quaking boy’s direction as Michael storms out of the locker room. And though his thoughts were veiled with an underlying puzzlement as to why he reacted so explosively, he was still seething too much to even fully acknowledge it.

“What the hell’s the matter with him?” 

All three boys stand and stare dumbfounded as the blue door slams behind Michael with a resounding thud. As he paces across the field, his rage riddled mind settles deep in ponderment, unable to shake the feeling that something terrible was happening to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” gently grabbing hold of his arm and offering your sincere apology, Michael focuses his line of sight on you before stopping and fully turning towards your direction. His voice cuts through the brief pause he takes.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?” You reply softly, taking in his quiet determination.

“You know I like you, don’t you?” 

“Yes.” A smile and endearing eyes focused on him, you hold on to every word with adoration.

“And I hope you like me, the way I like you.” 

“Yes.”

“I was wonderin’ if… you would be my girl?” During these months of courting as you both grew closer and closer, Michael's feelings had grown much fonder for you. He decided it was the right moment to take the next step in this relationship. 

“Oh, Michael…” you two share a warm and tight embrace, pulling apart for Michael to slip a silver promise ring onto your finger.

“It’s beautiful!” Taking in the intricate, fine details of petaled vines spiraling toward the center to a rose with a sapphire gem resting delicately in the middle of it, you feel elated that your connection had finally developed into something deeper. 

“Now, it’s official.” Michael chimes with a satisfied grin and voice filled with pride. Though in an instant, his expression turns grim.

“I have somethin’ I wanna tell ya.”

“Yes, Michael?” Staring quizzically, confused at the sudden shift of mood, you wait for him to continue.

“I’m not like other guys…” Michael's voice tinges with foreboding, contemplating if he should come clean about the strange happenings he’s been plagued with since the lake, or if he should just drop it and pretend that they don’t exist. Perhaps, you not knowing would be best for both of you. Somehow, they might disappear on their own, leaving their revelation to you futile in the end, or maybe even scaring you off, ruining what you both have.

“Of course not! That’s why I love you,” your fervent declaration pulls at his heart, anchoring the resolution he has to share these secrets with you. Still, he finds himself troubled on how to phrase it.

“No, I mean I’m different.”

“What are you talking about?” Uttering in perplexity, you begin to worry about what could possibly be the cause of the cryptic nature of Michael’s words. But before he can continue, a yelp filled with agony cracks abruptly in the space between you. Michael crouches down to the ground, doubling over as the same inferno that’s been haunting his dreams starts to set him ablaze from within.

And as he feels a terrifying shift, as if being ripped away from himself and replaced with something untamed and vicious, he is certain that the events over these past weeks are reaching a cataclysmic peak. Whatever this is, he senses if you stay near him any longer, it will have dire consequences.

“Are you alright?!” You go to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but before you even take the first step, Michael’s head whips up, startling you with the horrifying sight of citrine eyes and razor-sharp teeth.

“GO AWAY!” 

Frozen in fear, your feet plant firmly to the ground as the petrifying scene unfolds in front of you. Blood curdling screams reach your ears, soon recognized to be your own, tearing out of your throat as you watch Michael transform into something morbid and monstrous. The delicate structure of his face morphs horridly, distorting into a grotesque visage of bulging contours and wiry whiskers. His once smooth skin is replaced by coarse, silver fur and the unmistakable snap of contorting bones rings through the air as his features expand and bloodied claws push through the tips of his fingers. 

His protruding maw hangs open threateningly, lined with jagged fangs and emitting unearthly snarls that penetrate the night like a raging hellhound. Though on the contrary, his resemblance is akin to a wild cat as opposed to that of a canine. Finally regaining your senses, your legs break into a sprint towards the forest, hoping to escape the beast that was once your boyfriend in the shadowy vastness of it.

Soles pounding against the leaf-layered ground, the branches you push through tear at the purple skirt of your dress and scratch you in various places, but spiked on adrenaline and fear, you hardly notice. The full moon, backdropped by rolling, wispy clouds, is the only light offered in the ever increasing darkness of the woods as you descend deeper and deeper, getting lost in them. As its rays cast over the trees, creating silhouettes against the forest floor that waver in peculiar and unsettling ways, your pulse hammers in your ears as you find yourself failing to grasp what's real and what’s not.

Your desperate flight carries on as a ghostly howl sounds off not far behind you, spurring you to move faster to seek coverage. Once you feel you’ve reached a safe distance, you quickly take hiding behind the trunk of a towering oak, using this as an opportunity to regain your breath. 

Fingers gripping and back pressed to the rough bark, it grounds you as you adjust to the sudden calm that envelops your dim surroundings. The hush of the space brings an uneasy feeling of suspense as you notice the muffled stomps of the creature have vanished entirely.

“Ah!” You shriek as the horrendous brute leaps out from above, pouncing and knocking you to the bed of withered leaves beneath. Hovering and caging you in, it lowers until it's at eye length with you and the huff of its breath fans hotly over your face. And as it lets out a loud bellow, extended claws baring menacingly, your demise seems sealed as imminent.

With clenched eyes and pummeling heart, you brace yourself for the impact of them shredding through your flesh. But a moment passed, yet again, where everything is still. And you wonder, is this truly death? Being so caught up on the uncompromising actuality of it, that you feel nothing at all? 

Supposing the universe heard your despairing rumination to make reason of it, you feel the definite press of claws over the left side of your chest, simply resting as if to feel the rhythm there. Cautiously you pry your eyes open, intently taking in the slitted, inhuman orbs piercing through your own.

But oddly, behind them lies no malice. Instead, the tender and musing gaze of your used-to-be lover holds you captive as loud, rumbly chuffs vibrate affectionately against your form. And in this exchange between you, juxtaposing with danger and serenity, you feel as if somewhere far beyond this grisly countenance, he is reaching out to you.

“M-Michael? Are you there? Is it you?” Gingerly, your fingers inch closer and closer until they finally press flush to the cheek of this cat-like beast, silver mane tickling your skin. It reciprocates, overlapping its warm paw over the place your hand rests and letting out a series of soft, chittering purrs. Completely ensnared to each other in this moment, your resistance and distress gradually dissipate until you are only left with a deep yearning to understand this mystifying oddity before you, lost in the moonlit reflection of your eyes.

But, you are given no time as within them, gray clouds roll over, gathering to enshroud the moon, causing the creature to feel an unsteady shift inside of itself. Yowling in affliction, its paw tears away from your hand, claws catching the skin and drawing a scream from you once again with alarm restored. Somehow, you both manage to scurry from each other- you in terror and the nonhuman thing in pain.

And as you dash back into a run in the direction from whence you came, the open gash of your hand leaving a trail of blood in your path, you hear the indistinguishable shout of your boyfriend through the forest that is now almost pitch black as the moon has completely taken cover.

“Wait! Please, come back!” Wondering if your mind is playing tricks on you, you attempt to halt the progression of your steps and turn to see if Michael is really there. You are unable to confirm as you miss sight of the edge of a rock jutting out from the earth, foot seized by it as you tumble to the ground, bumping your head, and becoming consumed by a world of darkness.

Eyelids snapping open, you take in the familiar setting. Your bedroom of soft hues and ruffled accents is lightly aglow with the slivers of morning sky that seeps through the undulating curtains of your window—slightly ajar and inviting the nippy, autumn air into the space. Lifting the pink comforter from yourself and expecting to see the tattered dress from last night, you are surprised to find your form clad in your usual attire of a nylon nightgown. You adjust yourself, sitting up straight to fully take in where you are. How did you get here? 

You mull over internally for some explanation. To pinpoint a cause on what you suppose you only could have conjured up in your wildest imagination. Maybe it was stress from the upcoming end-of-semester exams you have, or that off-tasting slice of pie you ate the previous day. Lost in the introspection of your mind, you almost miss the bright ringing of the telephone on your bedside table. With a self-soothing sigh, you extend your hand to the receiver when the dazzle of a silver band graced with a sapphire stone leaves you shell-shocked, ice freezing over your bones.

The ringer thrums one final time before stopping as you fail to answer the call. Feeling as if your mind has stopped functioning while simultaneously being in overdrive, the phone sounds off again. After the third toll, you yank the receiver to your ear, muttering into the transmitter after a beat.

“...Hello?” You're gifted with nothing but the quiet breathing of whoever’s on the other side of the line, and you have a creeping suspicion to who it might be.

“...Michael?” The name drifts out in a low whisper. You then hear a tentative exhale being taken. “Yeah. It’s me.”

An abnormal feeling rests in the pit of your stomach at the sound of his voice, taken aback by the normality of it as your memory flashes back to the possessed and hellish tones that were produced in the woods. His question breaks through the thought. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

“I remember everything.” The statement falls from your lips with clarity and no hesitation.

“...Is it okay if we talk in person?” He requests nervously with an obvious unease in his words.

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Your chest pangs with apprehension, thoughts varying between the fear you felt last night and your desire to know the unknown. You’re not sure which one outweighs the other yet.

“Baby, please. I’m begging you. Give me a chance to explain. I promise you’ll be safe. I just need you to understand.” He pleads desperately on the other side of the phone, but you're still not sure if you are willing to take that risk.

“How can you promise me that? My hand, Michael. Do you even know what you did?” The incredulity in your voice aches Michael deeply as he rakes through his brain, attempting to spot any glimpses of what took place. But he can only recall the excruciating burn and the pale moonlight; anything else remains hazy.

“I can’t remember everyth-” 

“You can’t remember? How is that supposed to reassure me?” You cut his words short with trepidation rushing through your lips. 

“I don’t know! I can’t remember! I don’t know what I was. I’m not even sure I know what I am anymore. But whatever happened, you have to know that I am so sorry, and that I would never, ever do anything to intentionally hurt you. I-I need you to hear me out. Please. Baby, it’s me. It’s Michael… Can you just trust me?” The quiver and break of his voice he tries his best to hold in reaches your ears. You feel the strain on your soul as you hear him clearly hurting and confused. Though your skeptical concern still persists, you can’t bear the thought of him dealing with this torment alone.

“...Okay. But I’ll only do it if we go somewhere public.” Your stalled yet willing answer gives Michael a sense of hope and relief. Even though he’s slightly disappointed, he understands your wary disposition. Therefore, he quickly casts the feeling aside, mustering up the best response he can.

“Of course, of course. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. I’m headin’ over right now, so be ready in 15 minutes… I love you.”

“I love you too, Michael.” Albeit a small murmuring, you declare it with absolute devotion, soothing his underlying doubt that you no longer felt the same. The conversation ends by the small clack of the receiver against the switch hook, leaving you to simply settle into the stillness of your room, lost in raking over the events of the night before. Panic faintly remains, but you are mostly filled with curious wonder. As you marinate in the mixed sensations and emotions of that unnatural interaction, you think back to the sentimental moment the two of you shared on the earthy ground.

It somewhat subdues the anxiety and confliction you feel as you are reminded of the gentleness you were handled with. Despite the frightening exterior, you can still feel the lingering warmth of its benign touch and the adoring expression it held towards you. Michael’s struggle between beast and man was unequivocal, but you were certain that your affection for him mirrored the same. And though you were still having trouble wrapping your head around the reality of this situation, you were determined to hold the fortitude needed to navigate through it together.

With a sudden shiver, pulling you away from your inner dwellings, a particularly frigid gust of wind blows through your open window. Rising slowly, you shuffle across the room to pull it shut. Placing both palms on the sash, you seal the gap from letting in anymore of the biting air from outside. But as you look down, you are dismayed to see that the wound on your right hand is nowhere to be found.

Note: Thank you for reading and I hope it was enjoyable :) credits to @cafekitsune and @we-die-like-fools for the dividers.

mentions: @mjfavgirlie2006 @mjsgirlie04 @moonwalkerdiana

© All Rights Reserved

[mionellsparlockinevier-mj]

Michael Jackson Masterlist:

(Please note that everything I write is for pleasure, so there may be inaccuracies in timeline/characters)

Series:

A Love That's For All Time - (complete):

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

Loving You (that's what I wanna do) - (complete):

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Is It Worth The Giving? Is It Worth The Try? - (complete):

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

You're The One That Makes Me Strong - (complete):

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Oneshots:

A Heart That Needs Your Love

How Can I Stop Losing You?

[anonymouspyt]

The Midnight Hour 🌗

Word Count: 4.9k

Warning(s): slight angst

October 31, 1982. Washington, D.C.

"HU!" someone called out. A thunderous eruption replied back. "You know!"

It was another celebratory football game at Howard University, and today was especially significant— homecoming, on Halloween night no less. In a sudden turn of events, Hampton University, their long-standing rival school, suffered a stunning 11-29 defeat, adding yet another notch to the illustrious Bison winning streak.

You welcomed the cool autumn breeze as you walked out of the football stadium with your friends, Regina and Krystal. "Man, what a game!" you exclaimed.

Krystal nodded, falling into step with you and linking arms. "You're telling me! My man Lance was killing it out there."

You exchanged an amused look with Regina, who linked arms through yours. "Here she go..."

"Whaaat?" Krystal asked the both of you, feigning shock. "Y'all know I'm proud of Lance Fields, my man, Howard's Very Own—"

You and Regina cut in mock exaggeration: "Two-time MVP quarterback."

Regina grinned. "Girl, we know!" she added, shooting Krystal a knowing look.

Krystal scowled at both of you, making you and Regina laugh harder. "Both of y'all heffas are some haters!" she scoffed. "I don't hear nothin' when y'all's hatin asses be coming with me to all those frat parties though."

"Of course not. How else will we get in?" you joked, causing Krystal to drop her arm from yours, earning another laugh from Regina.

Krystal rolled her eyes good-naturedly and bumped your shoulder. "Y'all get on my damn nerves!"

The three of you laughed and continued down the long pavement leading out of the stadium, your boots clicking against the asphalt as you turned the corner.

"Speaking of parties..." Regina trailed off, her lips curling into a smirk. "What's good with that Halloween party at the Alpha House?"

You grinned and glanced over at Krystal. "Yeah, Krys, let us know!"

"All I know from Ezekiel is that the party don't start 'til close to midnight." Krystal shrugged.

Regina hummed approvingly. "That's my type of party! What you thinkin', Y/N?"

You arched your brow and paused for a moment, letting the suspense build between your two friends.

"You know I'm down!" you laughed, holding your closed fist out for them to dap.

Krystal and Regina bumped your hands, laughing as other students pass y'all by. The three of you turned down the corner and started heading in the direction of the Quad.

You didn't get too far when you heard someone call out. "Hey, pretty!"

You stopped in your tracks and looked over your shoulder to follow the voice. Your eyes immediately lock onto the mysterious person.

Decked out in his own varsity letterman from his university, the vibrant red and yellow popped beautifully against his smooth skin. His broad shoulders filled the roomy jacket effortlessly. Beneath it, he wore a red, navy, blue, and white flannel button-down tucked into Levi's 501 medium wash jeans that hugged his lean, muscular frame. On his feet were his favorite brown penny loafers, one ankle crossing over the other as he leaned casually against his silver Chevrolet Bel-Air convertible. He smirked slightly when he caught your surprised reaction to his call.

You gasped loudly, turning around fully. "Michael!"

You couldn't believe your eyes as you took him in.

There he was.

Michael Jackson.

YOUR MAN.

You couldn't help the grin plastered across your face.

Krystal and Regina exchanged knowing looks.

Regina eyed the back of your head, smirked, and teased, "Raincheck?"

You waved them off as they laughed their way toward the Quad. You could hear them call, "Bye girl!" as you headed toward Michael.

You ran over to him and jumped to his arms. "Oh my god!"

Michael caught you effortlessly, wrapping his arms around your waist as he lifted you slightly off the ground.

"Hey, beautiful." he murmured in that smooth tone that makes your knees go weak every time.

You pulled back to look at him once he set you down. "I thought you couldn't make it?"

"And miss a chance in seeing my girl? Ain't no way." Michael smiled charmingly as he gave you a slow once-over. He pulled you in closer by the waist, closing the gap to capture your lips in a long-awaited kiss.

You kissed him back gladly, wrapping your arms around to hug his neck, deepening the kiss slightly.

When he finally pulled away, Michael splayed his fingers across your back, sliding his hands around until they rested on your hips. "Damn girl, you look good." He licked his lips at you, his gaze dragging down your fitted black color-block striped turtleneck, divided cleanly into two panels. On the left, thick stripes of red, gold, burnt orange stood out boldly while the right contrasts with thinner neutral stripes of white, gray, and black. The sweater paired perfectly with your black mini skirt, sheer black pantyhose and matching black boots, completing your sleek look.

"So do you.." you grinned, gripping the ribbed collar of his letterman, and pulling him back in for another kiss. You couldn't help it, you haven't see the man since you both left for school nearly three months ago, and the warm, musky scent of his cologne was driving your senses haywire.

Suddenly, an influx of members from the football team poured out of the stadium, chanting back and forth at the top of their lungs.

"HU!" "You know!"

Some of the team parted ways and jaywalked across the street near Michael's car.

Trying to keep the momentum going, the two of you kept kissing until the moment was interrupted by a round of wolf-whistles and playful catcalls.

"I see you, Mike!" Lance Fields shouted, walking over to you both.

Michael pulled away, chuckling as he clasped Lance's hand, keeping his other hand resting on your hip. "Lance, what's up man?"

"That three-peat is what's up! We'll be looking forward to kicking some Tuskegee butt in 3 weeks!" Lance smirked, backpedaling as he spoke.

"Yeah, alright." Michael laughed. "We'll see about that!"

Lance chuckled. "Anyway, y'all coming through to the party tonight?"

Michael's free hand returned to your hip. "Nah, we're going to see a movie and hang out later."

"Yeah." You ran your hands up Michael's sides, glancing at Lance over your shoulder. "We'll catch y'all next time though."

Lance's smirk widened as he looked between the two of you. "Alright.." he backpedaled again to catch up with his teammates heading to their cars. "Y'all be easy."

You and Michael watched him until he was out of sight.

Then Michael gently squeezed your hips, drawing your attention back to him. "You ready?"

You nodded, a small smirk forming. "Yeah, let's go."

With that, Michael released you, opened your door with a flourish, like the gentleman he is, and helped you in before rounding the back of the car to the driver's side. He slid in, started the engine, and the two of you pulled off the university grounds.

⋆₊ ☽༺⋆ཐི◯ཋྀ⋆༻ ☾₊⋆

"I'm not like other guys."

                  "Of course not, that's why I love you."

"No, I mean I'm different."

                                  "What are you talking about?"

You shook your head, chomping down on the popcorn in your lap. "Girl, don't fall for it! He's bout to trap you!" you called out to the actors on the movie screen.

A few people in the theater laughed, and a few others shushed you. You shushed them back.

You and Michael were sitting in the theater watching Vincent Price's Thriller. The theatre was only showing the movie tonight, given the holiday— it was the perfect choice for your highly anticipated date night.

Pulling some spray butter from your purse, you shifted your gaze between the actor on screen and Michael's stunning side profile as you sprayed down the popcorn.

"You know, you look just like that actor."

Michael turned to you in disbelief. "Who? John Jay Smith?"

You looked at your boyfriend with amusement. "Yeah." you stated obviously, tossing the popcorn around in the bucket.

"Really?" he asked, tilting his head curiously.

"Yeah," you reaffirmed, your eyes tracing along his neck. "The similarities are almost uncanny."

Michael paused, glancing between you and the actor on screen. They were identical all the way down to the brown loafers. He shrugged. "I don't see it."

You rolled your eyes and waved him off, tucking your spray bottle back in your purse beside you.

On the screen, the dark clouds parted to reveal the full moon, its glow accompanied the climatic, ominous film score. The actor twitched and squirmed in discomfort, locking eyes with the actress before bending over in pain and letting out a piercing scream, clutching his stomach.

"Are you alright?"

                                                           "GO AWAY!"

The actress screamed loud, eyes wide, her fingers shaking near her face.

"Girl you're in the middle of the woods! Can't nobody hear you. Get your ass outta there!" you hollered, clearly invested in the film.

Michael glanced over at you, grinning with a mix of bashfulness and slight amusement. "Baby..." he murmured.

You met his eyes, feigning shock."What? That girl is watching her man turn into a whole werewolf and her dumb ass is just standing there, screaming and hollering."

"He looks like more of a were-cat to me." Michael shrugged, taking the popcorn bucket from you and reaching in his pocket for his mini bottle of Tabasco, shaking it over the buttery kernels.

You huffed. "Whatever he's turning into, I wouldn't be sticking around to find out!"

You grabbed a handful of the now mildly spicy popcorn and popped some into your mouth. Michael laughed and ate some too.

The graphic effects of the transformation were wildly entertaining to you— the actor's whiskers stretching from his cheeks, his palms expanded, his newly white, elongated sideburns grew, claws gruesomely punctured out of his fingertips, and his sharpened top row of teeth overlapped the bottom. Your eyes danced as his neck arched back and he let out a thunderous roar in his new were-cat form.

You chuckled, sipping your soda from the cup holder between you and Michael.

The actor was full on growling, the actress was still steady screaming. Your eyes were glued to the screen as you shouted. "GIRL RUN!"

As if she could hear you, the actress ran, weaving swiftly through the tall trees. She paused briefly to catch her breath before plunging back into the foggy, murky woods. Her pace slowed, convinced she had lost the man-turned-creature on her tail.  

Suddenly, the actor leapt in front of her, making her stumble to the ground in shock. Fear and dread filled her eyes as he towered over her in his full were-cat form, growling and salivating, claws curling menacingly.

"Carol, he's over here!"

"God, look at that thing."

"LOOK OUT!"

A frenzy of gunshots were fired off but the bullets barely fazed him. Anger building, he lunged at the new actors that arrived on screen, ripping them apart limb by limb. 

The terrifying scene had the most of the people in the theater squirming. That is, except for you and Michael. You both laughed.

Michael looked over at you, amusement in his eyes. "You're not scared at all, are you?"

"Why?" you said casually with a shrug. "It's only a movie." 

He chuckled, rolling his eyes as he placed the popcorn back in your lap. Turning back to the screen, more shrilling screams rang out from the actress, and he grinned, just as invested as you were.

⋆₊ ☽༺⋆ཐི◯ཋྀ⋆༻ ☾₊⋆

The two of you walked out of the theater, Michael's arm was thrown over your shoulder while yours was tucked under his letterman jacket around his waist once again.

"That was such a good movie!" Michael said with a contented sigh.

You smiled. "It was... even though you chickened out on me towards the end."

Michael smacked his lips and shot you a side eye. "Did not."

"Did too." You looked up at him as you started the path to his car, then gasped, realization dawning. Slowly, your lips curled into a mischievous grin. "You were scared weren't you?"

He playfully scoffed. "I wasn't THAT scared!"

"Yeah.. you were scared." You laughed.

Michael wiggled his finger down the inside of your turtleneck to poke your skin, making you to laugh even harder.

You squirmed, trying to push him off. "Michael!"

He targeted your sides, where he knows you're most ticklish, grinning wildly at your fit of giggles.

You managed to wriggle free and sprinted toward his car.

"Come here, girl!" he laughed after you, his infectious laughter chasing you, his long legs eating up the distance.

But as he jogged back toward the car, a woman suddenly stepped into his path. She smirked up at him. "Hey Michael, baby. Remember me?"

Michael stopped dead in his tracks, still catching his breath. "Janelle... hey."

You heard the woman's flirtatious laughter behind you. Immediately, you spun on your boots and retraced your steps, your eyes narrowing as you saw her getting a little too handsy with your man.

You stepped between them, keeping your eyes locked on her, recognizing her instantly. "Janelle."

She smirked, her fingers resting over the large chenille "M" on Michael's jacket. "Y/N... funny running into you here."

"Oh, I bet it is." you snapped, planting your hands on your hips. "And it's about to get real hilarious if you don't take your hands off my man."

Janelle narrowed her eyes. "Your man?"

"Yes." you said, stepping in her space. "My man. You got a problem with that?"

"And if I do?" she challenged.

You smirked dangerously. "We can solve that problem right now."

Michael tried to intervene. "Y/N, baby... you don't have to—"

"Shut up, Michael." Your voice dropped, low and lethal. Your glare never left Janelle. "I said.. take your hands OFF." You shoved her hard. She stumbled back, arms flailing, barely catching herself before hitting the pavement.

Michael didn't notice the flicker in your eyes. But Janelle did.

Whatever she saw made her scream in pure terror.

He quickly wrapped his arms around you to pull you back, surprised at how strong you were, trying to break free.

"Stay the fuck away from my man, you thirsty trick!"

Janelle scrambled to her feet and ran toward the theater. "Oh my god! This bitch is crazy!"

"Oh, I'll show you crazy!" You struggled against Michael's tight hold, forcing him to use all of his strength to get you to his car.

Once there, you shoved his hands off. "Get your damn hands off of me, Michael!" you huffed. "Is this what you've been doing while you were up in Tuskegee? Huh?"

"No, baby! No." Michael reached out for your arm but you pushed him away and turned toward the car.

He turned you back, gently taking your arms in both hands. "I only have eyes for you, pretty girl."

The sincerity look in his gaze softened your glare a little. You sighed as Michael rubbed your arms up and down soothingly. "Lemme make it up to you. Milkshakes on me?"

You stared at him for a moment, processing the last few minutes. The thought crossed your mind that the gesture might be a way to compensate for something. Letting that intrusive thought win, you huffed, pushed his hands away, and turned to get in the car. "Let's just go."

Michael clenched his jaw, rolling his eyes at himself before shutting the door. He walked around the car, got in, and drove out of the parking lot.

⋆₊ ☽༺⋆ཐི◯ཋྀ⋆༻ ☾₊⋆

The silver Chevrolet glistened in the moonlight as it curved around the edge of a quiet wooded forest. The engine suddenly sputtered, puffing out weak bursts of smoke. The car slowed, its tires crunching over the gravel until it rolled to a complete stop.

Crickets chirped. Frogs croaked. A soft breeze drifted through the tress, battling with the faint scent of burning fumes surrounding the two of you.

You were already irritated from earlier but this took the cake. You turned your head toward Michael, who wore the most sheepish expression.

He shrugged with an almost amused look. "Honestly, we're out of gas."

"The fuck do you mean we're out of gas, Michael?!" you snapped. "The car has been running fine all night— how do you just run out of gas?!"

"I don't know," he said helplessly. "It just happened!"

"Oh, just like that bullshit with Janelle just 'happened', right?"

Michael sighed, frustrated. "Baby..."

"Don't baby meMichael Jackson!" You scoffed and threw open the door. "Maybe you should go baby Janelle! I'm sure that shit'll work just fine on her!"

You slammed the door shut and stormed down the rocky, gravel path.

Michael gasped. "Y/N!" he called, immediately jumping out of the car to follow you.

"Leave me alone, Michael!"

He hurried after you, his eyes darting nervously along the tree line. He tried not to show it but he was on edge. "Will you just stop a minute?"

"No!"

You tried to yank away when he caught your hand, but with his annoyingly quick reflexes, he spun you around to face him. You don't say a word but you really don't have to— your eyes told everything.

Michael's expression softened. He cupped your face gently between his hands, trying to calm you down. "Y/N... you are the only one I want. I've been loyal to you since we got together last year and I have no plans on changing that."

Your lips curved into a soft smile. "You mean that?"

"You know I do." He brought your face closer and kissed you with deep, reassuring passion. When he pulled back, his dark brown irises gleamed under the moonlight. "I love you, Y/N."

You spoke with conviction. "I love you more, Michael."

Michael was pleased with your answer. Then, nerves flickered across his face. "There's something I want to give you."

You tilted your head. "What?"

His eyes danced across your face before he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small velvet box. He opened it slowly, revealing a gold-plated chain with a ruby heart pendant shimmering under the stars.

"Oh my god, Michael." You gasped, covering your mouth. "It's beautiful!"

Michael smiled softly. "You like it? I was gonna wait until our anniversary but after that mess with Janelle, the timing felt—"

You cut him off by throwing your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "I love it. And I love you!"

He wrapped his free arm around your waist immediately, holding you close. When you finally released him, he gestured for you to turn around so he could put the necklace on.

You gigged softly as you turned, allowing Michael to clasp it around your neck. You touched the pendant delicately before facing him again. "So, how do I look?"

The full moon glowed behind you, illuminating your silhouette. Michael beamed brightly. "Magical."

He drew you in by the hips and kissed you again, this time with more passion. You gladly reciprocated his affections, cupping his jaw. As you two embraced, the dark clouds began drifting across the full moon.

Michael pulled away, still wearing that exuberant smile. You mirrored it, pressing your hands into the front of his letterman. "You know I love you, right?" you asked softly.

"Yes, baby. I do." He chuckled, grazing over your hair with his large hand.

You nodded. "And you love me... the way I love you?"

"Of course, I do, Y/N. C'mon girl, I wouldn't have given you this necklace otherwise."

You laughed lightly. "Yeah, I guess you're right." Your smile slowly faded, replaced by something more serious. 

"But... there's something I have to tell you."

Michael's brows furrowed. "Okay, you know you can tell me anything."

"I know, I know... but what I'm about to say isn't easy."

Concern quickly replaced his confusion. "Baby... what is it?"

You paused. "Do you remember when Janelle screamed after I pushed her down?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"She saw something in my eyes that only a few people ever get to see." You held his gaze firmly.

Michael shook his head, trying to make sense of it. "Wait, I don't understand. You were just upset at her."

A small chuckle escaped you. "Yes." You ran your hands down his arms, taking his in yours. "I was very upset at that, but I was also upset when you didn't pull away from her either."

Michael's breath caught as he looked into your eyes. And in that moment, he finally understood why Janelle screamed as loud as she did.

Your eyes were pitch black. Eerily empty.

"Baby... i-it wasn't like that." he stammered. "I was shocked, that's all. I told her that she needed to back off."

Your grip tightened on his hands, your dark eyes boring into him. "No one likes a liar, Michael."

Michael blinked rapidly, panic rising. "Okay— okay. I didn't push her off, but I didn't do anything with her, Y/N. I'm not lying, I swear!"

"You aren't now..." you snarled. "But that's okay. Wouldn't you like to know why?"

A tense silence hung between you, broken only by the shaky, hesitant breath he exhaled.

"Why?" he whispered.

Your lips curled into a slow, conspicuous, cryptic smile. "Because you belong to me now."

Michael barely had a second to react before he saw your teeth sharpened into fangs. In one swift motion, you grabbed his Jheri curl, yanked his head back to expose his neck, and sank your fangs into his pulse point.

Everything went black.

⋆₊ ☽༺⋆ཐི◯ཋྀ⋆༻ ☾₊⋆

After a few moments, Michael's eyes fluttered open. As his vision adjusted, he realized he was no longer in the woods with you. Instead, he was lying in the middle of a dark alley, the glow of scattered streetlights cutting through the fog and illuminating the narrow path.

He gasped and immediately touched his neck— searching for bite marks. Nothing. His hands flew across his torso, arms, chest, face, anything to confirm he was still alive. When he found nothing wrong, he released a shaky sigh of relief. 

But then he noticed something else.

His clothes felt... different.

He looked down and nearly choked. His varsity jacket, flannel, and jeans— gone. In their place was a bright, bold red vinyl leather jacket, the black vinyl trim outlining the exaggerated lapels. Matching red slim-cut pants clung to his legs, paired with crisp white socks and black penny loafers. He pushed up the sleeves of his jacket, wondering where the hell he was.

"Michael?" you said suddenly, appearing next to him. He jumped back. You were dressed differently too— quite strikingly, he had to admit. A bright blue denim leopard print set clung to your frame, the jacket left open to reveal a red tank top beneath. A red belt cinched to your waist over matching capri pants, and red pointed-toe pumps clicked softly against the ground. Your red coin earrings shimmered beneath the streetlamp.

"Y/N?! What did you do?" Michael sputtered

You stared at him like he was the crazy one, scrunching your face. "What are you talking about? I didn't do anything to you! If anything, you're the one trying to scare me with all these scary ass stories you've been making up on the way back to my apartment!"

Michael opened his mouth to argue—

But then he head it. 

A low, pained groan.

He froze.

"Do you hear that?" he whispered.

"Hear what?!" you fussed, already annoyed.

The groaning persists, louder this time.

Michael identifies the sound quickly. "That! That noise, c'mon Y/N, I know you can hear that."

"Michael, these Halloween pranks are getting out of hand now—"

The groaning came again, even louder. Your eyes widened, not just because you heard it, but because you could now see exactly where the sound was coming from: behind Michael's shoulder. 

"Um.. Michael.."

Michael watched your expression shift and slowly turned around.

A crowd of zombies, multiple zombies of every ghoul shuffled down the alley toward you both. Their feet dragged across the slick asphalt in slow, dreadful rhythms.

Eyeballs were dangling out of sockets, some rolling across the street. Bones cracked and ground together with every step. One zombie's arm fell off entirely, but instead of retrieving it, the skeletal hand scuttled forward on its own, crawling towards the two of you.

Moving to the center of the alley, you and Michael clutched each other instantly, eyes wide. At every turn, more of the corpses crept closer, hemming you in. Both your hearts pounded in sync, breaths quickening with rising terror as the undead began to crowd around.

As they closed in, Michael instinctively pushed you behind him to shield you. But you turned, putting him behind you to shield him. Soon, you were back-to-back, both scanning wildly for an escape that didn't exist.

A familiar chord, those uncanny, ominous strings filled the dark gloomy air and echoed through the alley. Michael recognized it instantly. It was the same score from the Vincent Price movie they just went to go see.

"Y/N..." he whispered.

No answer.

The music swelled as the zombies reached for him, their bones cracking as he shoved their arms away.

"Y/N..." Michael said again, louder this time.

The score built gradually, rising toward a chilling crescendo. Michael's eyes darted around in panic. When he finally turned, his gaze slowly fell on you.

The warmth you carried was gone.

You stood as a gaunt corpse, your eyes hollow, cheeks sunken, clothes tattered and decaying. Even your heels were stained, scuffed, ruined. The entire horde of zombies gathered behind you with slacked jaws and glints of hungry intent.

A sneaky, menacing grin spread across your face. "Bet you're scared now, huh?"

Michael's eyes practically bulged out of his head. He backpedaled so fast his black penny loafers clicked frantically against the pavement before he spun and sprinted away from you and your motley crew.

You tilted your head, smirking darkly, your rotten grin widening as your gaze tracked his fleeing footsteps. 

"Let's get em."

Michael could hear the loud, spooky laughter behind him as he ran. Overpowering it all, a dark voice echoed.

"Darkness falls across the land. The midnight hour is close at hand..."

He panted, each step of his black penny loafers clicking against the pavement like a ticking clock. He passed by the now-empty cemetery by the movie theater, the faint scent of decay in the air.

"Creatures crawl in search of blood to terrorize y'all's neighborhood."

He veered sharply left, rounding the corner to find himself back on the Howard University campus, the brick walls decorated with dust and cobwebs all over. Glancing over his shoulder, his stomach dropped. You were chasing him, the other zombies trailing in your wake. He sprinted across the Quad.

"And whosever shall be found, without the soul for getting down, must stand and face the Hounds of Hell and rot inside a corpse's shell."

He looked around until he spotted Lance and darted over for help him, grabbing him by the shoulder to turn him around, but it was too late. Zombified Lance grinned at him daringly with missing teeth, and Michael recoiled, stumbling backward. He nearly tripped over a pothole, the lid scraping the cemented gravel, and a corpsed Janelle crawled up from the swampy underground, laughing wickedly as she reached for him. Michael quickly weaved to dodge her grasp, keeping his pace.

"The foulest stench is in the air. The funk of fourth thousand years and grizzly ghouls from every tomb are closing in to seal your doom."

Michael glanced back to see if he lost them, only to find both Lance and Janelle right behind you. You're gaining up on him now. Desperation surged through him as he ran toward the only familiar building on this campus, your dorm building. He flung the door open and slammed it shut, pressing his back against it to catch his breath.

"And though you fight to stay alive..."

The door rattled violently, and your hand punched through the wood above his head. Reflexively, he ducked, but another hole appeared, this time by the doorknob, where it had been torn from its frame. Michael's eyes caught the bench beside the door— a bench he's sat on countless times waiting for you to come downstairs over the past year. Acting quickly, he shoved it against the weakened entrance. It barely slowed you. You bashed your head through the door, shaking off the splinters and shoved the bench aside. Your ghoul-filled goons swarmed in behind you, forcing the door further open.

"Your body starts to shiver..."

Michael's gaze locked onto your soulless eyes as you inched closer. He scrambled backward through a doorway he hadn't even noticed was open, groaning filling the space and raising the hairs on the back of his neck. He fell onto the dusty couch with a thud.

"For no mere moral can resist..."

You leaned closer as Michael tried to scoot back, realizing there was nowhere left to run. You could hear his rapid heartbeat pulsing against his ribcage.

"The evil of the THRILLER."

You dragged your feet closer. Michael gripped the edge of the couch like a lifeline, staring at you with wide, terrified eyes, his breath shallow and uneven.

The zombies trickled in the room one by one until the room was filled in, crowding around the couch.

Michael pressed back further into the cushions, cornered. 

You leaned down, your face mere inches from his. A slow sinister smirk curled across your lips as you whispered, echoing Vincent's sinister tone. 

"Can you dig it?"

Your hand reached out toward his shoulder.

Michael's eyes shut tight as a scream tore from his throat, his body jerking upward.

When he opened them, reality had shifted. You were back in your black color-blocked turtleneck and mini skirt, your hand casually resting on his shoulder.

"What's the problem?" You smiled innocently.

Michael blinked, slightly disoriented, realizing he was in your dorm room. Panting, he tried to steady himself.

"What's time is it?" he asked.

"It's 11:45." you said, chuckling softly. "You crashed as soon as we got back from the ice cream parlor after the movies. You still wanna go to the homecoming party at the Alpha House?"

He nodded slowly, regaining his bearing as reality settled in. You smiled, warmth returning to your expression. 

"Alright. C'mon, let's head on over there." you help him up, letting him pull you into a hug. He returned it, relief washing over him as he realized it was all a dream. 

You held him for a moment before breaking it gently and guiding him toward the door.

On the way out, you turned over your shoulder to check your reflection in the full-length mirror. Your fangs peeked out as you smiled and winked at your own reflection before shutting the door behind you.

A faint echo of Vincent Price's voice drifted through the background, low and wicked. "Happy Halloween." 

He chuckled evilly.

[linaaaa3]

All Because Of You

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1987

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Synopsis: Michael Is at the studio and he can't get you out of his mind, so he calls you up there to give you something to remember.

Tags: love, interconnected, Comfort, Support, happiness, slow burn, fluff, smut.

TW: NSFW, established relationship, 18+, Fingering, orgasm, and more…

Word count: 1k

Aurthor’s note: First time writing a short story on here, be nice!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michael sat in the studio with Quincy, feeling a sense of normalcy wash over him, much like any other day. As he adjusted his headphones, he sensed a familiar comfort in the routine. Quincy gave him the cue to start, and with a gentle nod, Michael began to sing "Liberian Girl." But as he poured his heart into each note, his thoughts drifted to you. Your sweet face, which he cherished deeply, filled his mind, transforming every lyric into a heartfelt tribute to the love he felt for you. Michael felt a deep longing for your presence at that moment, but he was caught up in his work. He was determined to finish the song for his album, knowing how important it was to him. Balancing his emotions with his responsibilities was difficult, and he hoped you could understand the urgency he felt. Quincy glanced over at Michael, a hint of anticipation in his voice. "We’re about to dive into the vocals, Michael. You ready?" He could see Michael lost in thought, a distant look in his eyes.

Michael took a moment to shake off the distraction as he contemplated the long hours they had ahead in the studio. With a deep, steadying breath, he braced himself for the intensity of the work. Yet, even amidst the flurry of musical notes and melodies swirling around him, his mind kept drifting back to thoughts of you. The yearning to see you again cast a shadow over his focus, making the hours seem even longer as he mentally counted down to the moment he would be reunited with you.

Just a few hours into an intense recording session, Michael felt a surge of impatience coursing through him—he had to see you. Without a second thought, he shot you a text, urging you to meet him at the studio because something important was on his mind. “Quincy, I need to take a break,” he announced, his voice tinged with urgency. “It’s been hours of non-stop recording, and I need to rejuvenate.” Quincy, sensing the weight of Michael’s emotions, nodded empathetically. “I understand. Just let me know if you need anything,” he replied before heading out the door, likely to find refuge in the break room. The tension in the air was palpable, and the anticipation of what Michael wanted to share added an electric thrill to the moment!

Michael reclined on the couch, anxiously awaiting your arrival. He found himself missing your presence—the comforting scent that lingered in the air and the graceful way your hips swayed as you walked. Overwhelmed by emotions, he gently closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath, longing for the warmth of your company.

He heard the soft click of the door swinging open, yet kept his eyes shut, assuming it was Quincy entering the room. “Michael,” you whispered gently, your voice a warm caress in the stillness. Instantly, his eyelids fluttered open, revealing a smile that lit up his face. He sat up quickly, drawing you into a tender embrace, the warmth of his body enveloping you like a cozy blanket. As he inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of you filled his senses, and he let out a slow exhale, his breath brushing against your skin and sending delightful shivers cascading down your spine.

“I missed you so much, Princess,” he murmured, his warm breath brushing against your lips. You returned his gentle gaze with a soft smile, lightly caressing his hair. “I missed you too, Michael. I wanted to come sooner, but I didn’t want to impose on you,” you confessed, looking into his deep brown eyes, filled with understanding.

Michael furrowed his brow, his eyebrows arching upward in surprise. “You should have come,” he said, his voice low and gentle, yet laced with concern. “You’re never intruding on anything.” The warmth in his tone contrasted with the seriousness of his expression, inviting reassurance.

Michael gently takes your hand, leading you into a dimly lit, isolated room. As he closes the door behind you, he makes sure to lock it securely, creating a barrier between you and the outside world. He glances around to ensure no one is watching before turning off his microphone, signaling that this moment is private. With a sense of urgency, he pulls you into a corner of the room, tucking you both away from the view of the large window. The air feels charged as he leans in closer, creating a sense of intimacy in this hidden space away from prying eyes.

With a smoldering intensity in his eyes, he bites his lip, gently cradling your face as he pulls you into a passionate, fiery kiss that ignites the air around you. You let out a soft gasp at his boldness, considering that Michael is the shy type, you just don't know what has gotten into him. His fingers trickle up your back, causing shivers making it so much more intense. The sound of you and Michael’s lips together got more heated within seconds. He pulled away just a little to catch his breath and to look at your beauty, his eyes grazed at the arousal on your face and how flustered you were.

He gave you a beautiful smile kissing your lips, his hair in a frizzy ponytail to the back with his few curls hanging in his face, you could see little spots of his vitiligo and it only made him look even lovelier, You loved that, even if he didn't.

“You are so beautiful” he whispered brushing his lips on your neck and nibbling on your soft skin, he gripped your waist pulling you flush against him. You let out a soft moan, only making Michael want you more, his self-control slipping away by the second.

“Michael, Get out of there!” Quincy spoke knocking on the glass. Michael looked at me, “Moan” he directly asked, “W-What-” You spoke in confusion, getting cut off by Michael’s hand in your panties, and began to rub your bud fast, keeping eye contact. You closed your eyes bit, your lip, and let a groan come out, “Baby let him know what's happening, louder,” he slipped his two fingers inside of you causing you to let out a breathy moan, “M-Michael,” You moaned. Michael's eyes darkened. “Louder baby,” he whispered, the pace of his fingers fastening, and gliding inside you with ease from your slippery walls. Your mouth opened letting out whimpers, grabbing hold of his arms for support, for you had gone almost weak in the knees.

He went faster feeling you clench around his fingers, “Michael, M-Fuck!” the feeling in your abdomen tightened. Michael watched the desire on your face with a smirk enjoying every second of it, while he on the other hand was aroused, he was damn near the edge without touching himself, But your pleasures always come first.

You pulsated on his Fingers, feeling your panties covered in your essence. You bit your lip gripping his shoulders hard, feeling yourself about to cum. You held onto the release until you felt a familiar coil in your abdomen, “Michael…” You let out helplessly, as you came hard on his fingers breathing hard. He slowly slipped his fingers out with a ‘Pop’ sound and brought them to his mouth sucking them dry.

[linaaaa3]

Love Me Like You Mean It

1988

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Synopsis: Michael has been acting off, and you can’t seem to find why.

Tags: Confusion, Anger, Love, forgetful

TW: Arguing, anticipation, angst, Makeup Sex, and other sexual orientation

Word count: 2k+

Authors note: when the smut scene comes on listen to ‘Sweet Love’ By 112 ♥︎♥︎

You recline on the plush living room floor, surrounded by a couple of soft, cozy pillows that cradle your head and shoulders. The sunlight streams through the large window, casting warm patches of light across the room, but it can't quite chase away the feeling of emptiness that lingers in the air. It's been three long days since your husband, Michael, left, and the silence of the house feels like a heavy blanket over your heart.

You miss the warmth of his presence—the way he would laugh at your jokes or the way his touch could instantly ease your worries. As you lay there, staring at the ceiling, your mind races with thoughts of him, wondering where he might be and when he’ll be back. The emptiness of the room echoes your longing, and you find yourself hoping that he realizes how much you miss him and the comfort of your shared home.

You shift your weight ever so slightly, feeling the old wooden boards creak softly beneath you. Propped on your arms, you gaze up at the VCR player and the flickering television screen, both relics of a time that feels distant yet achingly close. With a sigh, you sit up and start sifting through the haphazard stack of VCR tapes that lie scattered around you. As your fingers brush over the worn labels, your heart unexpectedly stutters when they land on one in particular— the tape from the day you married Michael four years ago.

A wave of bittersweet memories floods your mind. Just two days ago, you had marked your anniversary, a milestone that felt significant and meaningful, but instead, it had turned into a day of solitude. Michael had missed it, his absence heavy in the air like a dense fog that refused to lift. The tears you had shed throughout that long, heart-wrenching day suddenly resurface, and you feel the familiar ache in your chest as you remember the laughter and joy of your wedding day, now overshadowed by the pain of his absence.

You press the power button on the television, and after a moment of anticipation, the screen flickers to life, revealing a vibrant blue glow that momentarily fills the room. With a gentle click, you insert the tape into the VCR, feeling the smooth surface of the cassette beneath your fingers. As you settle back on the floor, the excitement builds within you, and you focus your gaze on the screen.

As the screen illuminated, you found yourself gazing at a vivid scene of your wedding day. You were gracefully gliding down the aisle, the soft fabric of your wedding dress flowing around you. The dress shimmered under the soft light, intricate lace details glinting as you moved. Your heart swelled with emotion as you caught sight of Michael standing at the altar, clad in a sharp suit that complemented the day's elegance. His bright smile radiated pure joy, lighting up his face and reflecting the love he felt in that moment. The air was filled with a mix of floral scents and the soft murmur of guests, all eyes on you as you approached, each step echoing the excitement and anticipation of this unforgettable occasion.

As the evening settled in and the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the horizon, you found yourself lying on the bed, wrapped in a cocoon of sorrow. The room was dimly lit, shadows flickering on the walls as your emotions surged within you. Tears streamed down your cheeks, and you clutched your pillow tightly, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape.

Feelings of anger and frustration coursed through you, directed not only at Michael but also at yourself. You couldn't help but feel a deep-seated resentment for allowing him to treat you this way. It was as if a heavy weight was pressing down on your chest; every sigh filled with disappointment echoed the truth that he had been neglecting his role as a husband.

Instead of being by your side, offering companionship and support, he was lost in the world of his studio, choosing to pour his energy and time into his work rather than nurturing the relationship you both once cherished. The sense of abandonment stung painfully, and all you desired was to scream out your frustrations and cry until you could cry no more. Yet, the reality of the situation left you feeling helpless, trapped in a cycle of longing and loneliness, unable to change the course of your life as you had once envisioned it.

You lay in bed, the darkness swallowing you whole as silent tears streamed down your cheeks. The soft fabric of the sheets clung to you, a poor substitute for the warmth and comfort you longed for that could only come from Michael’s embrace. The emptiness beside you felt suffocating, a stark reminder of his absence.

With a heavy heart, you reached for the telephone, your fingers tremoring as you dialed the number of the studio where he was working late. Each ring intensified the knot in your stomach, a blend of hope and despair as you fought to keep your emotions in check. Finally, a voice broke through the line.

“Hello,” you managed to say, masking the tremor of sadness lurking beneath your words.

“Yes?” came the crisp reply from a woman on the other end.

“It’s Y/N. I was hoping you could connect me with Michael,” you said, tapping your foot anxiously against the hardwood floor, the rhythmic thumping barely registering amidst the tumult of your thoughts.

“Uh, sorry Mrs. Jackson, but Mr. Jackson isn’t accepting calls at the moment,” the lady responded, her tone polite but firm. At that moment, a surge of anger ignited within you, boiling up like a volcano ready to erupt.

“Alright, thank you,” you replied through clenched teeth, your voice strained as the frustration bubbled over. Can't answer the phone for your damn wife!

With a fierce slam, you placed the receiver down, the loud noise echoing in the quiet room. “DAMN IT!” you yelled, letting your rage and sadness collide in a cathartic release, feeling more alone than ever.

—

Hours had slipped away since you placed the call to the studio, every moment stretching like an eternity. Lying on the bed, you stared at the ceiling, your thoughts swirling in a fog of uncertainty and despair. The dim light filtered in through the curtains, casting soft shadows that mirrored the heaviness in your heart. Your face, streaked with tears, felt cool against the warmth of the blankets, each droplet a silent testament to the turmoil inside.

The metallic jangle of keys echoed through the hallway, followed by the creaking sound of the front door swinging open. You felt a surge of adrenaline as you stood up, your heart racing with anticipation. As you made your way to the entrance, the tension mounted within you. There he stood—Michael—his expression unreadable. Anger bubbled to the surface, threatening to spill over. “Michael, what the fuck!” you shouted, your voice filled with frustration and disbelief.

“Please, not now. I’m really tired,” he said with a weariness in his voice as he attempted to turn and walk away. But you couldn’t let him go that easily; you reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Don’t walk away from me!” you urged, your eyes locking onto his. You could see his curls tousled and unruly, framing his face, giving him an air of frustrated vulnerability.

You sank into the worn upholstery of the couch, your gaze fixed on the floor, the weight of disappointment heavy in the air. “You missed our anniversary,” you said, your voice trembling with frustration. “You disappear for three days, and when you finally stroll back in, all you can say is that you’re tired? Damn it, Michael, do you even care about me? I’m your wife for God’s sake!” The words spilled out, each one laced with hurt and desperation, echoing in the silence that surrounded you.

“I'm sorry,” he spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve just been in the studio, trying to wrap up the album—” but you couldn’t let him finish.

“Michael, do you even hear yourself?” you interrupted, the panic rising in your chest. “What about me?” Your voice trembled, and as the words left your lips, the tears began to stream down your cheeks. “Michael, you’ve been pouring all your energy into your music, and while you’re lost in there, it’s as if I don’t even exist anymore.”

The weight of your emotions crashed over you like a wave, and you found yourself sobbing uncontrollably. “Do you even love me anymore?” you gasped, the hurt in your heart echoing in the silence that followed.

His expression shifted into a pained mask, eyes glistening with unshed tears as he approached you. “I’m sorry, and I do love you~..” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. With a gentleness that belied his size, he carefully cupped your face in his large, warm hand, tilting it upward to meet his gaze. As the tears spilled down his cheeks, he drew you into a tight embrace, the weight of his sorrow enveloping you both.

As tears streamed down your cheeks, you buried your face into the warmth of his neck, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch. With a gentle yet powerful grip, he lifted you effortlessly by your thighs, your body instinctively responding as you wrapped your legs around him, feeling safe and secure. He carried you to the bedroom, his steps confident and steady, while he gracefully nudged the door closed with his foot, enveloping you both in a cocoon of intimacy.

He sets you on the bed gets between your legs, and then kisses your neck with affection. He kicks his shoes off and takes his red button-up off. He looks you in the eyes biting his lip. He pulls off his clothes letting them hit the floor. He leans close and lips latch onto your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

“Michael..” you moan and he pulls your shorts off, you wiggle your legs making them fall to the floor. You pull your top off freeing your breasts making your nipples hard in the cool air. Michael rips your panties away and you gasp, he grips your thighs scooting you close to his cock. His cock was thick and heavy, bobbing between his legs as he moves, it brushes over your slit, and you moan from the contact but it's not enough.

“Michael, please” you beg, wanting more than what he was giving you.

He looks at you with dark bedroom eyes, “Be quiet you were just crying like a baby, now since you want something so bad Im giving it to you” he spanks your ass and you let out a gasp biting your lip, he leans close to your ear, “Don't be greedy” he said lowly in your ear.

He pressed his soft lips upon your skin atop your cleavage, he sticks his tongue out running it down between your breasts sucking, and you felt tingles in your spine, becoming wet and soaked just for him.

You couldn't believe how easily you gave in to him, he was irresistible. Yours. Your man.

He sucked your right breast and popped your nipple in his mouth swiftly making you squirm. You moaned looking at him as he kept direct eye contact while he sucked your hard nub. He pushed down taking more of your breast in his mouth, and you moaned louder.

He then pulled away a string of his saliva connecting to your nipple. He rubbed your clit, watching you face as you feel immense pleasure. He sucks your other breast showing it the same love.

Your face was a dark crimson while you were getting close to release. He then stopped, and you furrowed your eyebrows. “Michael, why did you stop” you whined. “Because I wanted to,” he said raspily and grabbed his cock putting his soft pink tip at your drenched hole and pushing in a little. You moan and you put your hand on his hips wanting more.

“What did I just tell you about being greedy? Hmm.” he rams into you hard and the air from your lungs parishes and a few seconds later you take a deep breath but he starts moving fast not giving you enough time to let you recover. You look at his face a slight smirk on his lips.

He goes in and out, pushing your legs open and on your stomach hitting that sweet spot he knows by heart. You let out small moans with your mouth open with small gasps.

He snaps his hips faster moaning feeling you tighten around his cock, “Fuck! Baby” he moaned, sexily biting his lip, and his curls fell over his head dripping sweat, and a droplet landed on your chest.

You were a moaning mess. He leaned down catching your lips in a heated kiss, making his strokes short and hard making the bed rattle. You were reaching your peak, and it was about to hit you hard.

“Cum for me baby” he murmured his voice croaked softly as You felt him spill his seed into you and you felt your eyes roll back and your abdomen coil and you milk him good. He slowed his thrusts and looked at you with lidded eyes.

You felt his warm cum leaking out of you. He came to your ear. “Happy Anniversary” he kisses your cheek wrapping his arms around your hot sweaty body.

#linaaaa3

I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED!!!!!♥︎

Ignore any mistakes, also I'm taking requests!!♥︎💖

[alwaysformike]

ִֶָ𓏲࣪ 𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒🫐༉‧

when a nosy and hateful interviewer attempts to woe michael by tearing you, his fiance, down, he must show her that you are not to be tested.

chat i'm cooked this is my first michael ff 😔💪 i actually hate this tho 😓

jk in all seriousness heyyy pyt, how u doin love? content warnings : fingering, public and risky sex (ish?), suggestive content, bitchy interviewers, michael being TOOO FINEEEE

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆. it filled the room, worming the void of sound into every inch of the space. you sigh, desperate for someone to speak, for someone to fill the emptiness.

of course, it was your choice to come with michael to his interview. but, in your defense, this one was definitely different! it wasn't like you had never been to one with him before, but this one seemed to have something tense in the air.

michael, your fiancé, was hunched over a table. his hand ghosts the paper, signing off on which questions he allows to be asked. if it wasn't for the unyielding stare on you, you may have stayed like that for the rest of the night. just simply observing your love.

you look up, eyes darting around. they land on your starer, a lady. a clipboard in her hands, she is glaring at you. your eyes crinkle in confusion. her lips quirk up into a seductive smirk as her green, cat-lined orbs dart to michael.

it is then, you realize, that she is trying to say what her mouth will not. you attempt to wave this off by raising a arched brow and looking her up and down. she snickers to herself coldly. michael looks up, wandering what the noise is but she has already gone back to writing on her clipboard. the two of you make eye contact, and you shrug at him.

something was off with this woman.

you try to understand, perhaps she was just simply a fan.

but in the deepest corner of your mind, you can't unsee the way her lips turned up into a cruel smile. the way she seemingly mocked you, glowered at you.

the interview has started. you only came, thinking you'd be off to the side to watch. but the lady from earlier, ( sofia, as you've learned ) insists that you join. michael argues her suggestion at first, but when you see her taunting grin, you can't help but agree.

you stare at her, eyes daring for her to try something.

she clears her throat. you can tell she's up to something. her introduction is long-since over and she's ready to ask questions. "michael, i've seen you've brought your lovely fiancée here with you today. so, how did you two meet?" she exaggerates the word 'lovely', eyes batting at michael much more sweetly than they were to you.

he launches into the story of how you two met, specifically at the 1984 grammy awards. its a long story, one he's told far too mant times. you zone out, hands fiddling with your lacy skirt. your squint your eyes, desperately observing sofia. you try to make out her face as she smiles fondly at michael.

"right, love?" he asks you. you're too busy watching how sofia's face changes, how her eyes go dreamy and then snap back to a startling glower at you.

"huh?" you realize he had been speaking to you. "oh right! um. what was the question again?" you smile shyly. he grins, his eyes going up.

"anyways, back to you, mr michael." the interviewer points out. "if you could change one thing about her, what would that be?"

oh.

it finaly clicks what she's doing. you gawk at her in disbelief and then pull your face back disgustingly. lucky for you, michael is not stupid. he sees the pointed looks sofia has thrown to you, sees the puzzling looks you throw back.

all hell would break loose if he wasn't being filmed right now. quickly thinking, he points out how far you are from him. "little one, come closer. you're so far." he scoots your chair closer to his, throwing a small smirk at sofia. "back to the question, nothing. absolutely nothing."

you blush slightly and look back towards your snarky interviewer. her face has flushed red in embarrassment, her plan seemingly backfiring. "of course, mr jackson." his hand wanders to the small in your back, gently rubbing.

you are glad the table is there to cover the way your hands fiddle in your lap, attempting to wave off his affection. she continues on with her insufferable questions, each one meant for michael himself. she never seems to pay much mind to you, until her gaze is steady on you.

michael has moved his hand down to your hip, and you can tell sofia has began watching his actions towards you. this time, it is you who is smirking.

"mr. jackson, as much as we all adore the happy couple, may i suggest we leave affection for the bedroom?" she chuckles, thinking she must've cracked him up with the way his lips turn up into a smile.

what she misses, however, is the cheshire appearance to it.

"thank you for that lovely advice, however i think i'm more than welcome to touch my fiancée." his hand is lowering, and you gulp.

"well yes, mr. jackson. just simply a recommendation." she tries to play it off with a bat of her eyelashes, grinning seductively at him.

you feel heat rush to your face and something has snapped. "we only take recommendations from people that actually matter to us, thank you."

the room is silent, her face flushing up once more with embarrassment. michael, whose wandering hand is now on your thigh, squeezes tightly.

"of course." she mumbles, trying desperately to hide the roll of her eyes.

she continues on with her questions, never once addressing you or even looking your way. you resist the urge to grin with pride.

the hand on your thigh is moving downwards, and you are glad the table is there to hide it. he's hiking your mini-skirt up, hand sliding between your legs. the heat, once in your cheeks, is now in your stomach.

your teeth tug at your lip, desperately attempting to hide the up-coming whimpers and pleas.

you heard it here folks, michael jackson was an utter tease!

his hand gently rubbed your inner thigh, just mere centimeters from where you needed him most. though he nodded along to the questions and answered when necessary, you could see his mind was elsewhere.

your eyes float back over to sofia, and you hear her throw another quip to you, a small one that would typically go unnoticed, but you caught it.

you always did.

but you resist the urge for gasp when his slender fingers finally make contact with your clit, rubbing slow and painful circles. you look up, your eyes watching how he's smirking knowingly.

oh, so he knows what he's doing.

you want so desperately to whine and beg for him, but he knows you all too well. he looks down at you, eyes meeting yours and presses his fingers into your clit.

all in once, hes pinching and rubbing your clit. massaging it in fast circles that seemed to never end.

you were close and he had barely even touched you yet. then his fingers were pushed inside, going in and out at a rate faster than you could comprehend. you were sure someone would notice soon, and bit your lip as you tried to push his hand away discreetly.

he simply pulled his fingers out and slapped your hand away. then he was back in, going faster and deeper than before. moans threatened to escape at any given point.

and then it happened, the coil in your tummy breaks and you're letting go. juices seep over his hands. he grins wildly, playing it off as though he was laughing at one of her jokes.

but her eyes look over to you, brows furrowing in confusion. you reach over, simply knocking her clipboard off the table.

"oops," you shrug. she leans down under the table to grab it, and looks up. his finger is still in your puffy pussy, hand dripping in your aroma.

she come back up, her face twisted in anger. this time, it is you who smiles sweetly at her with batting eyelashes.

that is how the rest of the interview goes. her glaring at you both now, not just you. michael catches on, a smile dancing on his lips the entire time.

the interview is over. she's cut it short. whether because she was too angry to continue talking, or because she looked as though she may faint.

the three of you stand up. "thank you so much for coming, you two. it was definitely a pleasure." she keeps things cold and curt.

"you as well, ms sofia." michael smiles charmingly at her, reaching over to grab her hand and press a kiss against it. you curl your face back into shock, brows raising in rage. it is then, however, you notice that he has grabbed her hand with his own sticky, mess filled hand.

she looks down, presumably realizing this two and drops his hand like it's the devil's book of lies.

"well, i certainly hope you had fun. i know i sure did." you say to her, rosy-lips pulling up into a charismatic smile.

masterlist

tags:

[michaeljacksonwriter]

Baby? Don’t Be Gentle This Time, K?

Just a cute idea I had just now 😝

Might continue and write a smut version for this.

🧟‍♀️🧟🧟‍♂️🧟‍♀️🧟🧟‍♂️🧟‍♀️🧟🧟‍♂️🧟‍♀️🧟🧟‍♂️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️🧟‍♀️🧟

“Why do you keep risking your life for me…?”

You clench your jaw, eyes burning. For a second, you almost say nothing. Then, through gritted teeth:

“Because I can’t lose you too.”

Michael’s lips part. He’s trembling, looking at you like your salvation itself.

You snap, “Stop looking at me like that.”

Michael whispers, “I… can’t help it.”

And that’s it. You grab him—rough, desperate, fingers curled tight in the collar of his torn jacket.

Both of your mouths crash together, teeth grazing. It’s messy, borderline savage. You’re kissing him like you’re starving.

Michael melts against you, a soft whimper in his throat. His hands hover uncertainly before settling on your arms, trembling as he clings to you. He doesn’t push back—he just lets you take.

You breaks away just long enough to growl, “Tell me to stop.”

Michael’s eyes are glassy, lashes wet. He shakes his head fast, breathless, “Don’t stop… please don’t stop.”

You kiss him again, fiercer this time. Michael whimpers into your mouth, fingers tightening on your biceps. He tastes like salt and rain and fear.

Finally, you pull back, panting, your forehead pressed to his. Michael’s chest heaves as he stares at you, lips swollen. “You don’t have to be gentle,” he whispers. “I’m not gonna break.”

You huff a humorless laugh, voice ragged, “Yeah, you are. And I’m gonna keep you in one piece if it kills me.”

Michael’s lips are still parted, eyes glassy as he stares at you like you’re the only light left in this dying world.

And then—

He fumbles at his belt, shaky fingers trying to undo the buckle. His breath hitches as he mumbles, “Is… is this the part where we… y’know…?”

You blink at him. There’s blood drying on your jaw, dirt streaked across your cheeks. The room stinks of gunpowder and rot.

Michael, sweet Michael, is halfway to yanking down those Thriller pants, his curls a wild halo around his flushed face.

You slap your palm over his hands, stopping him, “Whoa. Hey. No.”

He looks at you, blinking rapidly, pupils blown wide, “But… but I thought… I mean… the kissing—”

You huff out a breathless laugh, voice rough as gravel, “We are both covered in blood and dirt, Michael.”

He freezes, glancing down at himself. There’s a dark smear across his stomach, flecks of gore on the waistband of his pants.

“…Oh.”

You can’t help the grin tugging at your lips. You lean closer, pressing your forehead to his.

“I’m not fucking you in a pool of zombie guts. We’re gonna find some soap first.”

Michael makes this tiny whimper of disappointment that’s half adorable, half obscene. His voice goes all soft:

“…I’ll wait.”

You smirk, brushing your thumb across the blood on his cheek:

“Yeah, you will.”

Michael exhales shakily, still trembling, but he finally lets go of his belt.

“Okay… but for the record, I’d still do it.”

You snort, “Yeah, well, I’m not letting your pretty ass get infected because you wanted a quickie.”

Michael smiles, shy and dopey, “…You think my ass is pretty?”

You shove his shoulder playfully:

“Shut up.”

But there’s a softness in your eyes you can’t hide. Michael sees it, and for a second, the apocalypse outside doesn’t exist.