Req:Hi, I hope you're doing well;
Can I request a Micheal x quiet! reader, moreover a reader with a resting sad face? Like there on a date, either with Micheal showing her his animals—or out to eat at a diner l couldn't decide myself m'sorry) and he's in a somewhat internal panic about her not having a good time, despite her actually having a good time, and having to reassure him about it.
Thank you,
ThrillerEra!Michael Jackson x Reader
warnings: none
masterlist
A/N: I have to post requests like this because tumblr is being fussy 😑
You walked half a step behind Michael, your hands loosely clasped in front of the simple sundress you had chosen to wear. You were an incredibly quiet person, you’d usually prefer to spend your nights alone, kicking your feet on the bed while flipping through a book. Yet somehow something about Michael pulled at you, which is how you ended up here.
You knew you carried a trait that confused a lot of people, and that was having a sad resting face. Even when experiencing happiness, your natural features always seemed sad, like you were quietly upset about something. You couldn’t count the amount of times people had asked you, “what’s wrong?” Or told you to “cheer up.”
Michael had spent two weeks busy in his studio, and the second he found himself having a free afternoon, he didn’t hesitate to call you.
You had been thrilled. You were still thrilled. As you watch him walk ahead of you, your heart thumps with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.
“Look over here, that’s where we're building a new place for the llamas,” Michael said, turning his head back to you. His large eyes scan your face, looking for a reaction.
You looked over to the place he was pointing at. You loved how much he cared for animals. You nodded slowly, gaze dragging back towards him. “It’s beautiful, Michael.”
Your voice came out quiet, you were lost in thought. Michael’s smile faltered, a sudden, panic sharp in his chest. He interpreted your silence as unhappiness. He lived in a world where he had to constantly entertain people, and seeing you look solemn was like a physical blow to his chest.
His mind overlapped with new thoughts, one after another: is she bored of me? Should I have chosen somewhere else to take her? Does she not like me?
He swallowed hard, his fingers moving nervously to tug at the collar of his shirt. “We can go look at the deer next,” he said quickly, his words tumbling frantically, desperate to make you feel more thrilled. “The deer are much better. They’re very gentle. They come up right to the fence.”
He reached out, his long fingers gently wrapping around your wrist to pull you along the path. His touch was warm, soothing, yet carried a telltale tremor of anxiety that you couldn’t quite understand. You quietly followed him, your shoes crunching against the gravel. You felt completely content, basking in the sun’s warmth, feeling the heat melt away the tension in your shoulders while being happily dragged away by Michael.
When you reached the deer enclosure, the setting sun was painting the sky in beautiful shades of pink and purple. While you were distracted Michael gently plucked a nearby plant.
“Here,” he murmured, he grabbed the back of your hand gently, pushing a clover into your open palm, his fingers lingering a second longer than necessary. You looked up, his pleading eyes catching yours. “Just hold your hand out really still. Like this.”
He demonstrated, extending his own hand over the wooden fence, three clovers resting against his palm. A young doe stepped towards the fence, eyes curious and wide. She easily nibbled the clover out of Michael’s hand, her wet nose brushing against his palm.
Instead of watching the doe, Michael’s eyes remained on you, watching the side of your face, tracking the movement of your eyelashes, his eyes momentarily dropping down to your lips. He was desperate for signs that showed that you were having a good time.
You stepped closer to the rail, repeating the movements Michael had demonstrated, extending your hand over the wooden fence. Your heart swelled as the doe shifted her attention towards you, snatching the clover out of your hand.
Michael pouted slightly. The silence, the way you sighed, the heavy look still settled onto your features which unraveled him completely. He felt an agonising wave of heartbreak washing over him.
“You want to go home, don’t you?” The question was so quiet, it took you by surprise. Why would you want to go home? Your brow furrowed.
Michael didn’t want to keep you here if you didn’t want to stay, he’d never force you to do something you wouldn’t want to do.
He did everything he could to prevent you from seeing how your mood affected him, he was failing of course.
“What?” You whispered, taking a step forward towards him. “Michael, no. Why would I want to go home?”
“You look so upset.” He confessed, his brow furrowing into an agonising line of worry. “You seem sad. You’ve barely said much, are you sure you’re okay?”
Your lips parted slightly, a sudden wave of hot, embarrassment etching its way through you. You started at him, you had been completely oblivious to the massive misunderstanding that had been brewing in his head.
“Michael…” you said quietly.
“I’m sorry,” he interrupted suddenly, his fingers nervously twitching. “I should’ve planned something better. I'm sorry, I really just wanted to see you. I’ve missed you. I don’t know what to do on dates-”
“Michael, stop.” And suddenly you were standing right in front of him, your palm sliding over the back of his hand, steadying the anxious tremor in his hand. His eyes fluttered with woe. He was vibrating with restless energy. Your heart felt suddenly full realising how much Michael truly cared about what you felt.
“I’m not sad, Michael.” You said timidly. “I’m having the most wonderful time. I love being here, with you.”
Michael blinked, his head tilting. Despite being confused, his features evidently flushed with a wave of relief at your words. “But you seemed so sad.”
You shook your head, “I just have a sad resting face. Even when I’m the happiest, my natural expression always makes me seem sad. I promise you, I love spending time with you.” You said softly.
Michael stared at you. His mouth slightly parted, his brown eyes tracing every single line of your features as if he was rereading a book and this time understanding the true meaning. All of the restlessness, and impatience slowly melting from him.
“A resting sad face?” Michael questioned, his voice taking a curious tilt.
“Yes.” You groaned, looking down at your feet, completely embarrassed. “It’s awful, people ask me what’s wrong at least three times a week. I didn’t think it would make you panic.”
“You didn’t make me panic,” Michael lied, though the flush of pink creeping up his neck and dusting his ears told a different story. His fingers catching your chin, taking a better look at your features. “Okay maybe I did panic a little, I thought you were getting fed up with me.”
“I could never be fed up with you, Michael.”
“Good.” Michael leaned down, kissing your cheekbone. “Now let me go show you the rest of my animals.” He beamed.
Taglist: @lotuspetalss @lemmeseethosetoes @darkgreengrl @swag313gurl @axrithtiy
