cherry

cherry. she/her. 18.

requests are open!

masterlist ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

currently writing for:

jaafar jackson

michael jackson

clark kent

synopsis: jaafar comes to pick up reader from a girls night out after she's had one too many drinks. unfortunately for him, that means she can only think about one thing; her perfect boyfriend.

pairing: jaafar jackson x reader

warnings: fluff, affectionate drunk reader, kissing

word count: 1,691

a/n: okay i haven't been able to stop thinking about how jaafar would be picking up his girlfriend from the club, when she's super drunk and kind of clingy. this was literally meant to be maybe 500 words so i don't know how i managed to write over triple that. also wrote this super late so im sorry if it's a bit incoherent lol. enjoy :)

“Baaaaby” you giggled down the phone, your friends trying to tug it out of your hands. “Hey! Stop thaaat. I’m talking to my boyfriend. Did you know I have a boyfrieeeend?” you slurred, questioning your friends. You were sitting at the bar in a crowded club, the flashing lights way too intense for the level of drunk you were at. Finally, your friend successfully grabbed your phone from you. You were too drunk to care, now way more interested in stacking and unstacking the shot glasses on the bar top.

“Jaafar? Can you come and get her? I think she’s had a few too many.” Your friend loudly asked down the phone, shouting over the music. Her finger was pressed to her ear to try and drown out the loud bass of the club as she squinted, looking at you humorously. Your other friends were dancing with the guys they’d met two drinks ago, but all you kept talking about was your boyfriend the entire night. You huffed out, crossing your arms over your chest thinking about him. Why wasn’t he here now? You’d much rather be with him, in the warmth of his embrace, rather than surrounded by sweaty bodies dancing much too close to yours. 

Your friend returned, taking your bag from you and putting your phone inside of it. “Right, Jaafar is on his way, okay? And definitely no more drinks for you.” She laughed, taking the half-drunk vodka cranberry from your hands. Your face lit up at the mention of your boyfriend. “Ohmygod is he really? Did he say anything about me on the phone?” you drunkenly babbled, your face growing redder as you cover your cheeks with your hands. Your friend sat next to you now, playfully rolling her eyes at your infatuation. She lifted her head towards the door, and as if on cue, Jaafar walked in. He was dressed in light jeans that hung low from his hips, and a white t-shirt that ended just at the right place, exposing the tiniest sliver of his lower stomach when he lifted his arm to run his fingers through his hair. 

He looked around, brows furrowed. Your friend stood up, waving to attract his attention, which caused you to whip your head around. Instantly, you straightened up and called out his name. “Babyyy! You came!” You shouted. His head turned from across the room, finding you sat at the bar with your friend. He slowly jogged over, lightly laughing with his eyebrows raised as he took in your drunken state. As he reached you, he instinctively reached out an arm to steady you as you got up and launched yourself at him, flinging your arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest. “I missed you soooo much” you slurred, hiccuping. Your friend looked between you and shook her head, handing him your bag. “Good luck with getting her home.” She chuckled. One of his arms was wrapped firmly around your waist, while the other took the bag from her. “Thank you for looking after her.” He said, looking between you and her with genuine appreciation. She shook her head before waving you both off, already getting pulled back onto the dance floor. 

“Let’s get you home baby, hm?” He said fondly, removing your grasp from around his neck and instead slinging one of your arms around his shoulder to get you to the car. His arm remained strong and steady around your waist as he slowly walked you outside, fingers pressed into your skin in a way that made your heart flutter, the alcohol definitely not helping. “You know, I didn’t even have thaaat much to drink. I swear I was sooo sensible.” You mumbled between hiccups, looking up at him. “I’m not sure that’s true, baby.” He softly replied, focused on making sure you didn’t trip on the steps getting out of the club. Under the warm glow of the street lights, you noticed that his jawline was particularly pronounced, and the curls that now fell over his forehead framed his face beautifully. He looked down at you at the feeling of your eyes on him, smirking when he saw the way you were smiling up at him. “Come on, focus on where you’re walking.” He murmured, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head before guiding you by your hips to lean against his car while he opened the passenger door for you. You sighed softly at the loss of contact, watching his every move. The way the sleeve of his shirt was now slightly pushed up, revealing his bicep which flexed as he opened the car door. You subtly bit your lower lip as you observed, eyes trailing down his body slowly. “Enjoying the show?” He joked causing you to look up to his face, a slight flush dusting his cheeks as he faced you now. Immediately you reached a hand out towards him, stumbling in the process. “Carefully now, baby. Let’s get you into the car in one piece.” He said, hands now on your hips as he guided you to sit in the seat, before reaching over you to buckle your seatbelt. The action caused his shirt to lift again, and you reached towards his exposed stomach, fingers ghosting his skin. Jaafar sucked a breath in and caught your hand softly, chuckling. “What are you plotting, hm?” he asked, attempting to come across jokingly, but his voice came out slightly strained as his eyes narrowed, looking between yours suspiciously. Pleased with the effect you had on him, you hummed happily and smiled innocently back at him. 

The drive back is quieter, the silence filled with the sound of the radio playing on low. Jaafar’s hand rests on your thigh, the other on the steering wheel. Despite your previously talkative manner, you now quietly observe your perfect boyfriend as he drives you back home. His eyes remain focused on the road ahead, and as you come to a stop you pay attention to the way the red of the stop light bled softly through the car window, painting his skin. You think that he’s never looked more beautiful in his life. Jaafar’s eyes slightly widened, choking on the air. “Why, thank you, my very drunk girlfriend.” He laughs, glancing over to you and squeezing your thigh. Did you say that out loud? You just smile back at him, before resting your head against your hand against the car door, suddenly very tired.

You don’t recall arriving back home, but when you wake up Jaafar is carrying you bridal-style into the house. You leaned further into him, groggily looking around while trying to comprehend how long you were asleep for. When he notices that you are now awake, he presses a quick kiss to the top of your head before walking upstairs and placing you on the bed. You sit up and look around the warmly lit room as he takes your shoes off, a stark contrast to the harsh strobe lights of the club. You noticed that your pajamas are neatly folded on the edge of the bed next to you - he must’ve done that while you were out. He looks up at you now, “do you think you can change into your pajamas for me while I go and get you some water?” he asks. You nod, reaching for the clothes beside you while he stood up, heading for the door. 

Minutes later, he returned with a glass of water and aspirin, placing them both on your bedside table. You (somehow) managed to successfully change into your pajamas, clothes folded in a pathetic pile on the chair in the corner of your room. He glances over at them, lightly chuckling, before looking back at you. You’re sitting on top of the covers now, leaning on the pillows propped up behind you, as you watch him walk over to you. He braces his hands on either side of your body and kneels onto the mattress, then leans down and kisses you gently on the forehead. Before he can pull back and stand up, you grasp his face in your hands and kiss him so intensely that he freezes for a minute, before leaning into you and kissing you back. He smiles against your lips, kissing you once more before patting the side of your thigh. “I think you need some sleep.” He hums, amused. You groan, “No, I think I need my boyfriend.” You abruptly grasp the soft material of his shirt and pull him into you again, causing him to lose his balance and almost fall on top of you. He suppresses a laugh at your neediness, still managing to not crush you as he holds his body weight up by his arms. “You look really good from here.” You say dreamily, reaching up to brush one of his curls out of his eyes, then caressing his cheek. He smirks down at you. “You’re going to be mortified when I remind you of this in the morning.” he responds, cheeks pink from your compliments, before prying himself from your grip. 

Just for Tonight

synopsis: reader and michael attend an awards show together, and he tries his best to comfort her anxious state.

pairing: michael jackson x reader

warnings: fluff, reader is an anxioussss gal

word count: 2,152

a/n: thank you so much for the request anon :) i looooove writing requests, hope you enjoy :)))

You paced the kitchen of your apartment back and forth, mind racing as you rambled down the phone to your best friend. “I feel like I’m going to be sick. I can’t go. I’ll just call him and tell him I’m dying.” You blurted, anxiously wrapping the cord of the landline around your finger. “What? No, you won’t. You’re so dramatic, it’s going to be fine.” Lauren replied, lightly laughing at your erratic state. “Lauren, I’m not joking. I literally can’t go with him. There’s going to be so many people there. And the paparazzi will probably ambush him, which means they’ll ambush me!” You continued, glancing at the clock on the wall while slightly zoning out Lauren’s reponse. 1:30pm. That gave you approximately two and a half hours until he was coming to pick you up. You let the phone cord hang now, instead anxiously biting the skin around your thumb. Worry flooded you, your mind racing a million miles per hour. “Have you even started getting ready yet?” She asked. “Um. I was about to.” You muttered. “Oh my god. Right, I’m coming over. Be there in ten.” Lauren retorted, before hanging up without giving you a second to think. You blinked. Glancing around your apartment, you thought about everything you had to do before 4pm. Before Michael came to get you. If you even made it until then.

Almost exactly ten minutes later, you heard a knock at the door from your place stood at the end of your bed. Your hands were on your hips, staring at two dresses laid out before you. They stared back, taunting you. You groaned, before begrudgingly going and opening the door. Lauren stood with her handbag in one hand, and a bag of makeup in the other. She took one look at you in your plaid pyjama shorts and tank top, hair in a bun, and sighed. “Right. Well we haven’t got all day.” She remarked, whilst walking straight past you to place her things down on your kitchen counter. You stood for a second more staring out into the corridor, as if waiting for someone to come and save you from the chaos about to ensue. “Hellooo? Are you coming?” She called, now in the bathroom. You sighed and slowly shut the door, turning around with a forced smile plastered over your face. 

Lauren was like a tornado. One minute you were letting her in the door, the next her things were scattered around your apartment like someone had come and ransacked it. Her bag remained on your kitchen counter, with her coat strewn over your couch. Various makeup products now littered your marble bathroom sink, with brushes and tissues everywhere. She worked at a pace that was almost superhuman, whilst you sat idly on the edge of the bathroom counter, staring blankly as she asked about how you wanted your eye makeup done. She patted some powder under your eyes, and then took a step back to look at you. You watched as a slow smile crept onto her face, before she let out a squeal, clapping her hands together. You laughed at her, and then hopped off of the counter to turn and look at your reflection in the mirror. You almost didn’t recognise the person looking back at you. She had created a smoky eye look accompanied by a ruby-red lip, and perfectly contoured your face. Turning back to her, you thought that maybe it would be okay tonight. 

Lauren left two hours later, leaving you looking good. Your hair was up in a french twist, a few pieces falling to frame your face. Now, all you had to do was change. Glancing up at the clock again, you realised you had about half an hour before Michael would be knocking at the door. A wave of anxiety flooded you, but you tried to push it away. Instead, you forced yourself to make the impossible decision of what to wear. You found yourself in the same position you were in before, standing at the foot of your bed as your eyes flitted between both options. Eventually, you settled on an off-the-shoulder black gown, with a sheer mesh overlay that floated as you moved. Staring at yourself in the floor-length mirror, you smiled, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you’d been holding. Everything’s going to be fine. You tried to reassure yourself, ignoring the anxious thoughts that so often made their way to the forefront of your mind. 

As you were putting in the pair of diamond earrings that Michael had gifted you for your birthday, a series of knocks interrupted your racing thoughts. You froze, quickly putting the back on the earring before grabbing your purse and giving yourself a once over in the mirror. You walked to the door, freezing for a moment before opening it, revealing a smiling Michael. He quickly took off his large sunglasses as you stood before him. “Wow. You look… wow.” He breathlessly laughed, shaking his head and letting his eyes roam over you. You fidgeted, unsure what to do under his gaze. “Thank you” you squeaked, squeezing your eyes shut at the high pitch tone of your voice. Pull yourself together. “Um, so do you. I mean, you look… wow?” You rambled as he smiled down at you, amused by your nervous chattering. He reached out to grab your hand, squeezing it once before leading you out of your apartment to the limo waiting downstairs.

The chauffeur gave you a curt smile before opening the door for you. You climbed in, and Michael straight after you, sitting right next to you. You smiled to yourself, shaking your head at his constant need to be near you at all times. As soon as the car began to move, it was like you were transported back to reality. Soon enough, you’d have to face the flashes of the paparazzi, the screams of his fans, the crowded environment of the awards show. Anxiety flooded you again, and you looked down to your hands in your lap, fidgeting. Michael noticed the change in your demeanour immediately, placing his hand on your thigh, stroking back and forth with his thumb. “You okay?” he questioned, softly. You looked up at him, smiling in a way that was meant to be reassuring, but it only concerned Michael more. The way your smile didn’t quite meet your eyes and you tore your eyes from his almost immediately led him to carefully bring his hand up to your jaw, tilting your face towards his. “What’s up, hm?” he whispered, eyes rapidly searching yours. You let out a soft sigh, before admitting “You know these things just make me quite nervous. It probably sounds stupid to you, but it’s a lot for me.” He paused for a minute, thinking. “I know I’ve been to a lot of awards shows, but I don’t like them either. I’d much rather just be at home with you.” he replied, nudging your knee with his playfully. You smiled at him, and he took your hand in his again, bringing it to his mouth and softly kissing it. “It’s going to be okay. We won’t even stay for that long, promise.” He reassured. You nodded at his words, before letting your eyes drop to his hand in yours, tracing small circles with your thumb on his hand. He watched your face for a moment longer, before pushing his sunglasses up and facing the front again. 

About ten minutes later, the car pulled into the front of the awards show, which meant your nerves were at an all time high. As if sensing the anxiety rushing through you, Michael squeezed your hand again and took off his sunglasses to give you, before the chauffeur opened the door to let you both out. You happily accepted and pushed them onto your face. Michael led you past the screaming fans and flashes of light from the paparazzi, one hand clasped firmly in yours while the other was held up as if to try and shield you. You kept your head down as you walked, focusing on your breathing and trying not to trip in your ridiculously high heels. Once you both made it inside, Michael let your hand go, instead placing his hand firmly on your back guiding you to your seats. You smiled politely at people in passing, eternally thankful that Michael didn’t stop to have a full blown conversation with any of them. The room was extravagant, to say the least. The biggest chandelier you’d ever seen hung from a crown-moulded ceiling, the glass pieces glittering as they gently rocked to-and-fro. The carpet was a deep shade of burgundy, and gold table legs stuck out from beneath gold embroidered table cloths. You’d never felt less like you belonged somewhere in your life. Finally, you made it to your seat, and Michael pulled out your chair for you. You sat and immediately crossed your arms over your abdomen, as if trying to subconsciously appear smaller. Your eyes darted around the room at all the famous faces within arms reach, smiling to yourself as you thought how badly Lauren would wish to be here right now. 

Michael watched you, even in the middle of conversations. His eyes found you no matter what, like he was constantly trying to protect you from an unknown evil. You forced yourself to try and make small talk with the people at your table, ignoring the anxious waves pulsing through you. Then, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Michael had somehow made his way to you in the midst of a conversation, just to lend you his touch. You leaned into it, his hand firm and warm against your bare shoulder. 

The people at your table had slowly drifted the conversation away from you, talking about who they thought might win an award tonight, which was a relief for you. You looked around, noticing that people with cameras were planted around every table but yours. Michael watched your realisation, smiling to himself as you looked up at him. Before you could even question how he managed to keep the attention away from your table, another voice called out his name. He squeezed your shoulder once more before greeting the man walking towards him, but the nervousness that was so prominent not even ten minutes ago seemed to be melting away from you. You sat up a little bit straighter, and continued to politely make conversation with those around you for the rest of the night. 

At some point in the night, you slipped away, needing a moment of fresh air outside. You leant against the brick wall next to the back exit, staring up at the stars shining down at you, with your arms wrapped around your body in attempt to fight off the cold of the night. You leant your head against the wall, closing your eyes briefly to allow yourself to decompress from the chaos and intensity of the awards show. Thirty seconds later, you heard the door swing open, and didn't even have time to open your eyes to know who was standing there. "I've been looking for you all over." Michael gently exclaimed, immediately taking his jacket off to drape around your shoulders. You opened your eyes and smiled up at him, "Sorry. I just needed a minute." He came to stand in front of you now, legs either side of yours. He just smiled in response, staring down at you in a way that made your heart flip and a rosy flush creep onto your cheeks. His hand slowly came up to caress your cheek, before cupping your face and taking your lips between his. The kiss was slow, never rushed, yet intense. Your hands gripped his upper arms in order to try and ground yourself, leaning into the kiss. He smirked at your eagerness, before pulling back just enough to stare into your eyes. "You think it's time we leave?" He whispered, face so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your face. You nodded in response, and he placed one last kiss to your lips before grabbing your hand and leading you back inside.

It'll Be Okay

synopsis: michael notices that reader is particularly quiet, leading to her revealing that she's a week late.

pairing: michael jackson x reader

warnings: fluff, pregnancy scare, kissing, reader is anxious but michael comforts her :)

word count: 951

a/n: thank you so much for this request anon!!!! i loved writing this, i hope this was somewhat what you were hoping for. requests are always open and welcomed!!! enjoy :)

Michael knew you like the back of his hand. He noticed every small change in your demeanour; from the way your smile wouldn’t quite meet your eyes when you were uncomfortable in a conversation, to the way you’d unconsciously chew the side of your lip when you were concentrating. 

He also knew that you were maybe the most talkative person he knew. You could talk to anyone, about anything, and make anyone feel at ease. Especially him. He adored the way you’d play with his hands whilst leaning into him on your couch, recounting your day in excessive detail. The way you’d jump up and run to him when he came home, cupping his face in excitement, before peppering him with kisses as he laughed. That’s why when you sat silently next to him tonight, he knew something was wrong. You hadn’t said a word in over an hour. He sat with his legs spread out across the L-shaped couch, while you lay with your head in his lap, arms crossed over your stomach. His hand traced small, slow circles over your hip. The bowl of popcorn next to you remained untouched. He glanced down at you. Your eyes were focused on the TV playing an old movie that he insisted you watch together, while the TV glow illuminated the high points of your face. Despite your gaze focused on the screen in front of you, Michael could tell that you weren’t truly paying attention. Your eyes were slightly glazed over, looking just past the screen in a daze.

His hand abruptly stopped its path along your hip, but you still didn’t look up. He watched your face for a moment, noticing the crease of worry between your brows, and the way you were chewing on your lip absentmindedly.

“Baby?” He asked softly, turning his head fully to look at you. Eyes still focused ahead of you, you barely acknowledge him. “Hm?” You responded, oblivious to his growing concern.

He shuffled now to turn his body towards yours, causing you to lift yourself off of him. You looked at him in confusion as he tucked one leg under him, reaching for the remote to silence the film. “I know something’s wrong. You’ve barely been here all night. What’s up, hm?” He gently questioned, nudging you softly with a small smile. You immediately looked down, fidgeting with your hands. “I have been here. Right next to you.” You muttered, defensively. His face dropped slightly, reaching for your hands and cupping them in his. He dipped his head down to try to see your face. “Look at me, baby.” He whispered. You let out a low sigh and drag your eyes up to meet his. He looked between your glassy eyes, searching for an answer. 

Finally, you whispered, “Michael, I’m late.” You nervously begin to chew your lip again in anticipation for his response. You watched as he furrowed his brows in confusion. “Late?” He asked, eyes darting between yours. You looked down again. “My period. It’s a week late.” You admitted, voice so quiet that he thought he might’ve imagined it if not for the quiver of your lower lip, and the tear that spilled over your cheek with a deep sigh. “Oh.” He said, blinking, eyes drifting to the wall blankly. “Yeah. ‘Oh.’ ” You laughed wryly. He looked back to your worry-stricken face, pulling you into him as he kissed your head. That was the final breaking point for you. You collapsed into him, sobbing into his chest. “Shh. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay”. He whispered against your hair, stroking your back. 

An hour later, you were both sitting on the floor, leaning against the bathroom cabinet waiting for the dreaded three minutes to be up. Michael watched as you sat with your eyes squeezed shut, head in your hands. The cold tile grounded you as you took deep breaths in and out. 

“No matter what, it's going to be okay.” He cooed, as he took one of your hands in his, kissing it. You looked up at him, eyes searching his. You paused for a moment. “Yeah, maybe it will be.” You whispered, causing him to smile at you, He cupped your face in his hand, brushing his thumb over your cheek. You laughed, breathlessly. “There she is.” He murmured, leaning in to place a kiss to your nose. 

Three minutes felt like eternity, but once they were up you held Michael’s gaze for a moment longer before pushing yourself up to your feet. With shaky hands, you grabbed the test from the bathroom counter and kept it face down before turning to face Michael, who was standing next to you now. He gave you a reassuring smile, and you took a deep breath in before turning the test towards you.

Negative.

read part 1 here!

synopsis: y/n, the choreographer for the michael movie, begins rehearsals with jaafar.

pairing: jaafar jackson x choreographer!reader

warnings: none! just a slowww burn

word count: 1,220

a/n: a shorter one for chapter 2, but i wanted to focus on y/n's character for this one. the next chapters will be longer as we get into their relationship ;) enjoy!!

With the first week of rehearsals done, Y/N and Jaafar had grown friendly. Not friends, per se, but their interactions had blossomed from the occasional nod of a head in passing, to standing together in the queue for lunch and filling up each others’ water bottles when the other was busy. 

Y/N found herself leaning against the wall of the studio at the end of each day waiting for Jaafar to change back into his regular shoes so they could walk back to their cars together, talking about how a certain section of choreography was particularly difficult or joking about the awful lunch they’d had that day. They always seemed to be the first two in each morning, and the last two out. A slow yet familiar rhythm settled among them somewhere in between Jaafar’s terrible dad jokes and the comfortable silence that they more often than not seemed to find themselves in after tiring days of rehearsals.

It all seemed to happen naturally, and nothing about their interactions felt forced. Jaafar didn’t make a conscious effort to specifically sit with Y/N at lunch, it just happened. Y/N didn’t purposefully run through a section one more time than was necessary just to be able to talk to Jaafar for another ten minutes (or maybe she did), yet they constantly found themselves gravitating towards each other. It was as if a magnetic force existed between them, pulling them together despite the fact that they’d barely known each other a week.

Y/N caught herself smiling more times than once when thinking about something stupid Jaafar had told her earlier, or suppressing a laugh when remembering a joke that he’d made about a perpetually grumpy member of the crew that they both disliked. She was, however, unaware of the way Jaafar would watch her softly, savouring the way her eyes crinkled or her dimple popped when he nudged her to make another awful joke.

Today was Saturday, which meant that Y/N had two days to refresh and clear her mind before yet another vigorous week of rehearsals. Soft amber light seeped through the window blinds, painting warm stripes across the bedsheets, and waking up Y/N at an hour that was too early for anyone to be awake at on a Saturday. The gentle heat of the sun hit her skin, and made the dust in the air glisten in the gold hue. She groaned and covered her head with a pillow. Five minutes passed, and Y/N realised that falling back asleep wasn’t an option now that her mind had started to race with thoughts of everything she had to do before Monday.

Sighing, she forced herself up and headed to the kitchen to make herself a coffee. If she was going to get through the mountain of notes that the lead choreographer had left her this week, she needed it. She placed a mug under the coffee machine, and grabbed her phone while she waited. She opened Instagram out of pure instinct, and curiosity immediately got the better of her as her thumbs betrayed her, typing faster than she could think. Her breath hitched as she paused for a moment. Jaafar’s profile. Leaning into the kitchen counter now, elbow propping up her chin, she began scrolling through the few posts he had. 

She had no doubt that these pictures would be wiped before the movie was announced, however for now she savoured the small glimpse into his life. She scrolled through pictures of him and his family, interview photoshoots from years ago, the occasional picture of a sunset. One post caught her eye. He was lying down on a sofa with headphones on, looking off camera. She couldn’t help but smile at the way his white shirt bunched up at his waist, or at the concentration in his face as he looked away. The same concentration he showed in every rehearsal that they do together. 

Y/N went to close Instagram, but her thumb hovered over the follow button as she hesitated for a second. It wasn’t weird to follow her coworker, right? Before she could overthink it anymore, she quickly hit the follow button and turned off her phone, placing it face down on the counter. She turned to lean back against the counter now, dragging her hands down her face with a groan. What was she doing? Jaafar was her coworker at most, and he probably viewed her as no more than someone who he worked with. She felt ridiculous for letting herself get so worked up about something as insignificant as his Instagram.

Then, her phone buzzed. Her heart jumped. Surely not. She slowly removed her hands from her face and reached for her phone, turning it around. Her screen lit up. 

jaafarjackson followed you back. 

For an agonisingly long second, she did nothing but stare at the notification, almost as though if she took her eyes off of it, it might disappear. Y/N knew that logically, a follow meant nothing. People followed each other back all the time. Especially coworkers. Definitely.

Despite the logic she knew to be true, her face betrayed her, a small smile growing along with an indescribable warmth inside of her. She shook her head and placed her phone face down again, reaching for her coffee and moving to the couch. She opened her laptop and set the coffee down on the side table. Her mind wondered, despite her willing it not to. Opening her emails, she scrolled mindlessly, eyes skimming over schedule changes and meeting requests. She sighed again, taking a sip of her coffee. 

Then, a new email notification. She placed her coffee down and leaned forward, opening it.

SUBJECT: 1-1 REHEARSALS WITH JAAFAR. 

BODY: Hi Y/N, 

I hope you found that the first week of rehearsals were okay. We had some scheduling mix ups (note to self, don’t give the new intern scheduling responsibilities!) and realised that we aren’t going to be able to finish rehearsing the Billie Jean Motown performance with Jaafar. Do you think you’d be able to do some sessions with him to get the second half polished up? He’s already got most of it down, so I think you could probably perfect it in a few days. You’d be doing me a massive favour if you can. 

Thanks, 

Sam. 

Y/N read the email through once. Then again. Then, a third time just to make sure it was actually real. Her mind raced with all the emails she’d have to send to change around her schedule in order to fit in the extra rehearsals. She leaned back into the couch, raking her hands through her hair. Days. As in multiple. Just her and Jaafar. She thought back to the first rehearsal they did together. His hand on her waist to catch her. The way his eyes searched hers, concern for her apparent in his furrowed brows. She groaned again. Why was he having this effect on her? She needed to snap out of it. 

part 2 of by your side will be posted today ;).

❀ - fluff

ꨄ︎ - smut

jaafar jackson

by your side ❀ (ongoing)

drunk in love ❀

michael jackson

jealous? me? ❀

it'll be okay ❀

synopsis: michael and reader attend a party together, but an encounter with a drunken man reveals michael's jealous side.

pairing: michael jackson x fem!reader

warnings: fluff/angst, jealousy, kissing, tension

word count: 1,189

a/n: first michael fic!! saw this picture of tyla on pinterest in this gorgeoussss dress and it reminded me of a studio 54-esque party. i based the party slightly on that, but im still getting the hang of writing everything accurately so i'm sorry if anythings off! enjoy ;)

The soft hum of low music filtered through the apartment as Y/N added the finishing touches to her look for the party she and Michael were attending tonight. She hummed along to the music as she tried to reach her arms behind her to fasten the sheer blue sparkly dress she had chosen for the night, letting out a huff of annoyance when she realised she couldn’t clasp it herself. “Michael! Can you button my dress for me?” She called out, whilst picking out a pair of large hoop earrings. She was so distracted with trying to put the hoops in that she didn’t notice Michael’s sudden appearance. 

He leant against the door frame, just observing her for a moment. The way the sequins on her dress glistened in the light. The way she pursed her lips in concentration as she put her earrings in. The way her skin looked almost golden in the early evening sun filtering in through the curtains. His eyes raked painstakingly slowly over her figure, as he licked his lips with his head hung low. She finally noticed him standing there, watching him look her up and down through the mirror, a slow flush creeping up her neck at the feeling of being under his gaze. A small smirk grew on her face as she quipped “Are you going to help, or just stare at me?” He finally met her eyes again, rubbing his hand along his jaw and shaking his head, letting out a low chuckle as he made his way over to her.

The confidence she felt in her witty remark soon dissipated at the feeling of the warmth of his body so close to hers. His steady hands met her shoulders, and she felt like she was suddenly hyper-aware of the small distance separating their bodies. He pushed her hair over her shoulder, and she slightly turned her head to watch as he fastened her dress. His gaze remained fixed on her back as he smoothed his hands over her now-fastened dress. 

He placed a soft kiss on the bare skin of her neck, lingering for a moment. Her breath hitched as she slowly turned to face him, meeting his dark eyes that were already on her. He slowly licked his lips again, eyes flicking down to her lips and back to her eyes. “I think we should just stay here,” he murmured in a low tone. Becoming increasingly aware of the redness in her face, she laughed softly and placed a quick kiss over his lips, reaching for her bag. He let out a low groan and hung his head in defeat, as she insisted “Come on, we don’t want to be late,” while grabbing his hand and leading him out of the door.

Walking into the party felt like walking into another world for Y/N. Red light bathed the room, and the disco ball in the centre reflected speckles of light onto the guests adorning the dance floor. Y/N watched as a group of girls fawn over three older men sitting on the deep red sofas in the corner of the room, cigars in hand. As they made their way to the bar in the back of the room, Michael kept a firm hand on her lower back, and his head dipped as if he was trying to avoid attracting unnecessary attention. Despite that, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the burning eyes on both her and Michael, and the hushed voices as they passed. 

Finally reaching the bar, Y/N leant her back on the edge of it whilst Michael ordered them some drinks. No matter how many times she attended these things with Michael, it still took her a minute to take it all in. She glanced over at Michael as he leant over the bar, speaking with the bartender, noticing how comfortable he looked in comparison to the nerves coursing through her. No matter where they went, Michael always managed to look as if he belonged. Before Y/N could overthink anymore, a voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “Michael! There you are! Matthew, get over here. I’ve been meaning for you to meet Michael for the longest time!” She watched as Michael turned to the voice, and made conversation, politely introducing himself. 

Y/N turned to sit at the bar as her drink was placed in front of her, smiling in thanks to the bartender. She ran her finger up and down the condensation on the side of her glass, deep in thought about nothing and everything as she waited for Michael to return. Suddenly, a voice interrupted her, “What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone at a place like this?” She looked to her left to see a man dressed in a silk shirt and matching pants, sporting a sleazy smile as he leant just a bit too close to her. She could smell the alcohol on him as he continued to talk at her whilst she tried to find a way to politely leave. 

Unbeknownst to her, Michael had immediately noticed, zoning out of the conversation with Matthew as he rambled on about charts and album sales. He observed the obvious shift in Y/N’s posture, a wave of uncomfortableness encompassing her as she politely smiled back at the man, eyes darting around the room. His fists clenched as a rush of jealousy pulsed through him, jaw tensing as he watched the man lean and whisper something into Y/N’s ear. That was it. 

✧ i write one shots, blurbs, and potentially series' if people enjoy a fic!

fluff, smut, and angst are all welcome :)

i only write Y/N or x fem!reader fics.

try to include as much detail as possible in your request pls!!

✧my no's:

fantasy

any non-con or incest

male!reader

part 2 here!

synopsis: y/n, the choreographer for the michael movie, begins rehearsals with jaafar.

pairing: jaafar jackson x choreographer!reader

warnings: slow burn, use of y/n, tensionnnnn, fluff

word count: 1,923

a/n: hi!!! this is my first ever fic so pls be nice lol, and i’m sorry if my writing isn’t the best. i’ve always wanted to try writing fanfiction so bare with me. also posting this at 2:40am so if i missed any mistakes when editing no i didn't.... enjoy :)

Early mornings in L.A. made the city feel different. It transformed from the bustling, chaotic, constantly moving city that Y/N was used to, to one that felt calm and intimate. The drive over to the studio was always quiet at this time, which is something that Y/N had come to appreciate. 

The smell of coffee filtered through the car as Y/N made a mental checklist of all the things she had to do once she got to the studio. Rehearsals were set to begin for Michael - a job that Y/N couldn’t even believe she landed. She had to pinch herself multiple times to check that yes, she did in fact land a position working on a biopic about the King of Pop. It’s not that Y/N hadn’t worked on large productions before as a choreographer, however something about the excitement surrounding this particular film left a warmth within her as she pulled into the studio.

She grabbed her bag out of her car and made her way inside, nodding to various people who greeted her. Today was the first day of official rehearsals with the cast, meaning her choreography had to be perfect, obviously leading to a long night of overthinking everything that could possibly go wrong. Turning the lights on in the studio, Y/N looked around and took it all in. This would probably be the only moment of peace she would get all day, and as she set her bag down in the corner of the room, she felt the true weight of what today meant. Meeting the cast. Leading the choreography. Being responsible for making sure each move was exactly how Michael did it. She let her mind wander, particularly when thinking about meeting Jaafar. She had heard promising things about him, and the natural talent he seemed to possess, however she found herself fascinated with the man beyond being just Michael’s nephew. Looking at her reflection, she shook her head and jumped up and down, shaking out her hands - and her nerves - before warming up.

Fifteen minutes later, the sound of low chatter grew closer, and the production team entered along with the dancers. They all briefly greeted Y/N, and then began getting ready - the production team immediately coordinating with the technical crew, and the dancers warming up. As Y/N made small talk with one of the dancers, Jack, about what they were going to cover today, a figure caught the corner of her eye. 

Jaafar.

Y/N paused for a moment, taking him in. Deep in conversation, he absentmindedly tucked a loose curl behind his ear, nodding along with the conversation as he set his bag down. The loose fabric of his white t-shirt hung over his broad shoulders as he reached into his bag to pull out his dance shoes and a water bottle. As if feeling Y/N’s gaze, Jaafar’s attention averted from his conversation and flitted around the room until landing on Y/N. 

Almost immediately, Y/N felt a sudden shiver at his gaze on her, vulnerability flooding her being. Her hand found the back of her neck, rubbing it instinctively as she held his eyes a beat longer, before tearing herself away and back to her conversation. She couldn’t explain the sudden presence of her heartbeat in her ears, nor the way she kept thinking about his eyes on hers as she made her way to the front of the room.

“First of all, welcome to the first day of rehearsals for Michael!” Y/N began in a raised voice, causing the remaining chatter to come to an end. A short applause engulfed the room as Y/N looked out to the smiling faces staring back at her. As if it was becoming human nature, her eyes briefly scanned the room before landing on Jaafar again, who lent her a small smile as he crossed his arms, focusing his attention on her.

Y/N bit back a smile, and continued. “We’re going straight into the deep end today with Thriller.” A whoop arose from the back of the room, causing a low chuckle throughout the studio. 

Y/N landed on the dancer who she was talking to previously and continued, “Jack, I know you’ve got Michael’s part memorised, so you’ll act as the stand-in for Jaafar to demonstrate the beginning. For the rest of you, Sam will walk you through the main sequence, but I know the majority of you already have a rough idea of how that goes.” 

A chorus of agreement coursed through the studio, and whilst the rest of the dancers made their way to the other half of the room, Jack and Jaafar walked over to Y/N. 

“Jack! Can you quickly come over here?” Someone called from the other end of the room. 

Jack looked to Y/N, raising a finger as if to say he’d be right back, before jogging over to where he was needed.

Jaafar continued over to Y/N, with his head hung and a small smile spread over his face, as if trying to make himself smaller.

“I don’t think we’ve properly met yet. I’m Jaafar, nice to meet you” He said once he reached her, maintaining eye contact while shaking her hand softly yet firmly, as if grounding himself in her touch.

Her eyes lingered on his hand over hers for a second longer than necessary, before meeting his eyes. 

“It’s nice to meet you too. I’m Y/N.” She replied warmly.

Jaafar smiled softly, pulling back his hand and shoving it into the pocket of his dark sweatpants.

Before either of them could say anymore, Jack returned. 

“Sorry about that. Let’s get started” Jack stated, slightly out of breath already.

“Right. Yes.” Y/N faltered slightly in her usually confident way of speaking. Was her face red? It felt red. 

“So, even though the sequence where Michael and Ola Ray leave the theatre is fairly straightforward, it’s obviously really important that we get each move exactly right.” Y/N explained, eyes shifting between Jack and Jaafar who were both nodding in response.

“Jack and I have broken it down with the camera crew in terms of shots, so for today we’ll just focus on the first 15 seconds which is one continuous shot.” Y/N’s eyes now solely resided on Jaafar, who was watching her intently. She continued, “We’ll do a run through of it to get a feel for the scene, and then slowly break it down if that sounds good?” 

“That sounds great.” Jaafar replied. 

Jack made his way over to the sound system to begin the track, and Y/N desperately tried to keep her gaze anywhere but on Jaafar. She couldn’t afford to already be sweating with her heart racing before she’d even begun dancing. Why was he having this effect on her? She brushed it off, forcing herself to smile as Jack returned.

The unmistakable notes of Thriller surged through the studio whilst Jack and Y/N took their places. As they began the walk in time with the music, Y/N noticed the furrow in Jaafar’s brow and the way his jaw had ever so slightly tightened. He watched them with one arm crossed, the other under his chin, and if Y/N wasn’t so focused on stepping in time with the music, she would’ve noticed how his gaze remained fixed on her rather than Jack. 

The music stopped once they finished the section and they both looked expectedly at Jaafar, whose eyes still lingered on Y/N. As if he’d realised that they were waiting for a response from him, he snapped out of his trance with a shake of his head. 

“That was really great.” He stammered, looking down, eyes darting around as he clasped his hands behind his back. Y/N noticed the slow exhale that would’ve been missed by anyone else, as he glanced back up to both of them. 

“Excellent. I know you’ve already done a few run throughs of this a while ago, so do you want to try running it through like that once before we really hone in on each move?” Jack responded, seemingly oblivious to the growing tension blooming between them.

Y/N’s eyes widened. She could deal with the way their eyes kept unintentionally finding each other, but being that close to him? She now also let out a breath, giving herself a mental slap across the face. 

“Sure.” Jaafar replied, eyes fixed on Y/N.

Jack again went to start the music as Y/N and Jaafar made their way to the back of the room, Jaafar trailing behind her. The all-consuming thud of her heartbeat in her ears meant that Y/N briefly lost her balance when a member of production rushed past her, clipboard in hand and speaking into their headset. Before she could even react, a hand grasped her waist, steadying her. She glanced down to find Jaafar’s hand planted safely on her waist, and slowly turned around to meet his eyes.

His brows were furrowed in concern as his eyes darted between hers. For a second, it felt as if it was just them in the studio. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern pulsing through his tone.

“Thanks to you, yeah.” She murmured.  “That would’ve been an embarrassing first hour if I had already ended up on the floor.” 

He let out a low chuckle, and smoothly pulled back his hand, still maintaining eye contact.

Only upon hearing the familiar beat of Thriller did they snap out of their trance, getting into their positions. 

A long two hours later found the rehearsal studio taking a mid-morning break after a rigorous start. Y/N stood by the water fountain, zoning out as she looked out of the window over the now bustling city of L.A. 

A sudden voice broke her daze. “I think if I have to hear Jack tell me my walk isn’t Michael enough one more time I might lose it” Jaafar said jokingly.

Y/N let out a chuckle as she turned to face Jaafar. As he began recounting the rehearsal to her, she couldn’t help but notice the way his curls framed his face, or the way his shirt slightly lifted to expose his lower stomach when using his hands to help get his point across, or stop thinking about the soft concern in his voice when he caught her earlier. “You okay?” He quipped, subtly smirking as Y/N’s gaze returned to his eyes. Her eyes slightly widened at the realisation that he had caught her mid-daydream, a hot flush creeping up her neck. 

“Yep. Yes. Completely fine.” She stammered. He let out yet another short laugh at her embarrassment, before a member of production called his name from across the room. His eyes flickered between Y/N’s and the vague direction that his name had been called from. 

“I have to go to catch up with the head of choreography before the next block anyways. I’ll see you later.” Y/N smiled, whilst picking up her bag and placing her water bottle into it. 

“Okay. See you” He smiled back, watching her for a beat longer as she turned towards the exit. 

“Jaafar!” The voice yelled again, impatient this time.