antoinette ᥫ᭡.

# about me!  she|her.  19.  july  leo.  college  girl.  black  AF.  multifandom.  east  coast  babe.  a  frequent  reblogger  and  inconsistent  writer.  literature  lvr.   romance  book  reader. 

ᥫ᭡ i'm a multifandom writer who writes 'x reader' fics and I write 'x oc' stories too ! all of my stories are written with a black woman in mind.

# my favorites ! gold jewelry, makeup pinterest, romance books, braid outs, writing, the color pink, duck face enthusiast, dunkin refreshers. rihanna, beyonce, michael jackson, ariana grande, summer walker, janet jackson, erykah badu, sade, lauryn hill, mariah carey, one direction, solange. music genres: soca, dancehall, reggae, r&b, pop, rap / hip-hop. movies / tv shows : legal dramas, drama, romance.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･  this  blog  is  18+.  minors  and   ageless  blogs  DNI.  do  not  repost,  modify,  or  feed  my  work  into  AI. SPAM LIKE = BLOCKED.

⤷ "DON'T YOU THINK A GIRL CAN HAVE BOTH A WILD HEART AND A FLOWING DRESS?"

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# ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ 🐆 word vomit ! ! : my thoughts

#˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ 🐆 realbitchbangaz ! : some hits

#˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ 🐆 sole's moodboard ! : pictures i reblog

#˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ 🐆 antoinette's pen ! : my stories

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# ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ 🐆 soleantoinette !

⟢﹒links

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happy  reading!

Like worst case scenario I can change the face claim

Below, you will see a google search concept made by me ! This is a visual of what would pop up if Naomi Moreau-Jackson were to actually exist.

It might look a little sloppy lmao but this is the best I can do, I'm a little rusty when it comes to graphics!

count ：1.8k

pairing：offthewall!michael╱blackfem!singer!fem OC! see masterlist here.

forewarning：fluff, naomi cries a bit

synopsis : it's naomi's birthday and michael couldn't sleep without giving her a gift.

a/n: I haven't published a fic since my birthday and I didn't want to leave you guys high and dry while I work on my other projects. happy off the wall day!

August 10th, 1979

You laid fast asleep in your bed, your head deep in your pillow as your pink comforter is covering your frame. Your headscarf is halfway off your head as you move to turn to the other side of the bed. You had barely gotten comfortable in your new spot when you heard a thud coming from your window.

Wearily, you lifted your head, opening one eye to look around your dark room. Assuming something fell, you laid your head back on your pillow and mentally decided to fix it in the morning. You were barely able to graze your cheek back down on your pillow before you heard the thud again, louder this time.

You sit up fully this time, annoyed and half awake. You turn your lamp on and sit up, looking around your room and trying to process where the hell could be coming from. You rubbed your eyes, trying to adjust to the new found light. 

A loud knock sounds in your room from your window. You jump, an audible gasp coming from your mouth. You had no idea what time it was, and you would’ve felt bad to ask one of your brothers to check out a noise that could possibly be nothing. You swiftly take the comforter off your legs, your bare legs losing its warmth. You walked over to your closet, grabbing an old curtain rod before slowly making your way to the window.

A rush of adrenaline comes through you, and you take your manicured hand and swiftly open the curtain. Your adrenaline slows down once you see Michael’s sweet face.

His curly hair was slightly disheveled, his smile grows as he makes eye contact with you. His eyes roam from the top of your head, your brown eyes, down to your two piece pajama set, and your manicured toes.

“Michael!”

“Hey, Nai.”

“You damn near scared the life out of me.” You spoke, a small pout forming on your face.

Michael releases a light chuckle from his lips. “Let me in mama, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You reach out and open the window, stepping back as his long limbs climb over the windowsill and onto your floor. Michael now stands in front of you, his hands still behind his back.

“Care to explain why you’re here in the middle of the night?” You ask, crossing your arms on your chest as you look up. 

Michael’s smile grows as he moves an inch closer. “I don’t celebrate birthdays, but I know that you do, so I got you something. Happy twentieth birthday.”

You look down, and see his hands move from behind his back and see a bright pink gift bag and a bouquet of lilies. You take the flowers and put them on your dresser, and take the gift bag from his hands, your fingers grazing his as you look in the bag. You place the bag on your bed, moving the decorative tissue out of the bag and onto your bed, and your movements stop. You pull the vinyl out, the plastic packaging still on it.

“Michael, you didn’t…” You trailed off as a smile started to grow on your face.

“I wanted to give you the record first. I, uh, also made a couple of songs dedicated to us, to you. I wrote some of these with you in mind.”

Your eyes welled up with tears, the fear and adrenaline leaving and the overwhelming feeling of happiness increased. You carefully set the Off the Wall record down on your bedspread, your hands trembling just enough to betray how deeply his words had hit you. You looked back up at the soft, earnest expression in his dark eyes, the nervous way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he waited for your reaction.

Without a word, you closed the short distance between the two of you and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a tight hug.

Michael’s arms wrapped around your waist almost instantly, his chest letting out a soft sigh against yours. He held you firm, burying his face into the crook of your neck, the subtle scent of his favorite cologne and the night air creeping in from the window mingling together.

"Thank you, Mike," you whispered into his shoulder, your voice thick with emotion. "You really didn't have to do all this."

"I wanted to, Nai," he murmured back, his fingers gently pressing into the small of your back before he slowly pulled back just enough to look at you. He used his thumb to carefully catch a tear before it could roll down your cheek. "You know how much you mean to me. I wanted you to have it before anyone else did."

You let out a breathless laugh, wiping at your eyes as you glanced over at the album sitting on the pink comforter, then back at him. "You came all the way through my window at... what time is it even?"

Michael pulled his wrist up, checking his watch with a small, guilty grin. "A little past two in the morning."

"You're crazy," you smiled, shaking your head, though you couldn't hide the warmth radiating across your chest. "If one of my brothers heard you climbing up the side of the house, they would’ve come in here with a baseball bat."

"That's why I had to be quiet," he teased lightly, his smile dimpling his cheeks. "Though I think the curtain rod you were holding would’ve done enough damage."

You flushed, remembering the makeshift weapon sitting near your closet, and playfully nudged his arm. "Hey, I had to protect myself!"

Michael chuckled, the sound low and gentle in the quiet room. He took your hand in his, his large fingers lacing through yours as he led you back toward the edge of the bed. You sat down side by side, the newly pressed vinyl resting between you like a secret shared only in the dark.

"Which ones?" you asked softly, leaning your shoulder against his as you traced the shiny wrapper of the album cover with your manicured finger. "Which songs did you write about us?"

Michael looked down at the hand he was holding, a faint, shy blush creeping up his neck—the same shy Michael the rest of the world rarely got to see. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and he pointed a long finger toward the tracklist printed on the back.

"This one," he murmured, his voice dropping to a tender register as his finger hovered over a title. "And... well, parts of a few others. Every time I was in the studio, every time I was working on the melodies, I kept thinking about your laugh. About how you look at me when nobody else is paying attention."

He turned his head to look at you, his gaze locked onto yours with a quiet intensity that made your breath hitch.

"I wanted this album to be special, Naomi," he said softly. "But more than that, I wanted you to know that no matter how big things get, or where the music takes me... you're always the muse in my head."

"Michael..." You couldn't even form a full sentence. You leaned your head against his shoulder, letting the crisp fabric of his shirt rest against your temple. "You're going to make me cry all over again."

"No more tears," he murmured, his voice warm as he turned his head slightly to press a tender kiss to the top of your head, mindful of your silk scarf. He reached out with his free hand, carefully picking up the bouquet of white lilies from your dresser and setting them gently in your lap so you could smell them. The sweet, rich scent instantly filled the space between you.

"I remembered they were your favorite," he said softly, watching your face as you breathed in the fragrance. "I made the florist open up late just to get them fresh."

"No you didn't," you gasped, looking up at him in disbelief.

"I did," he admitted with a proud, boyish shrug. "I told her it was an emergency. A birthday emergency."

You shook your head, a deep, helpless warmth blooming in your chest. That was just who Michael was. He was capable of stopping the world for the people he loved, entirely unbothered by rules or late hours if it meant making a moment unforgettable.

He reached over, gently picking up the Off the Wall vinyl once more, his long fingers carefully sliding the record halfway out of its sleeve to reveal the pristine black wax inside.

"Do you... do you want to play it?" he asked, a sudden touch of nervous vulnerability creeping back into his voice. "On your record player?”

You looked from the glittering vinyl to his expectant, hopeful dark eyes. There was no way you were sleeping tonight anyway.

"Yes we can, Michael," you agreed softly, sliding off the bed and taking his hand to pull him up with you. "Show me what you've been working on, Bambi."

Michael smiled, a playful flicker in his dark eyes as he reached out and gently lifted the needle to put the vinyl on the record before setting the needle on track eight. “Since it’s your birthday, we have to start with this one.”

A soft, warm electric piano chord hummed through the small speakers, followed by a breezy, romantic tempo that instantly softened the mood in the dark bedroom. As the smooth, irresistible groove of "It's the Falling in Love" filled the space between you, Michael held his hand out to you, bowing slightly with a theatrical, boyish flourish.

"May I have this dance, Faline?"

You laughed softly, placing your hand in his. He pulled you in close, one hand resting gently on the small of your back while your other hands remained clasped together against his chest. You both began to sway to the easy, infectious rhythm, moving slowly in the dim light of your bedside lamp.

When his voice came through the speakers, Michael leaned down, his lips brushing against your temple as he sang along softly under his breath, just for you.

"It's the falling in love that's making me high... It's the being in love that makes me cry..."

"This is the one, isn't it?" you whispered, looking up at him as the music washed over you both.

Michael stopped swaying for a second, his wide, dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made the rest of the world melt away. A gentle, knowing smile touched his lips.

"Every single word of it, Naomi," he whispered back, tightening his hold around your waist as the song played on into the late night. "Every single word."